The Scholar and the Warrior
by mikackles
Summary: Charles Xavier decides that the X-Men and his elite students need to master not only their mutations, but also regular hand-to-hand combat. The Professor searches for someone capable, and thinks he has found someone in the least plausible of places. Belle, a 22-year-old CEO with a genius level IQ, turns out to be nothing like expected and exactly what Logan needs.
1. Chapter 1

Her fists clenched involuntarily. _He knew_. Belle didn't know how, but Charles Xavier _knew_. The fight or flight response was beginning to kick into action, when the man sitting before her shattered all her preconceptions.

"I would be honored if you would teach at the Xavier Institute."

Belle wasn't very proud of the unintelligible, "Huh?" that left her lips.

Xavier smiled amiably, completely unperturbed by the situation. _How could he be so unaffected?_ This strange man, a telepath, knew her entire history. All of the demons in her closet were exposed to this man. And still, Xavier remained unmoving, his eyes open and expression friendly. _What the actual fuck?_

"It has come to my attention, as of late, that my staff and student body relies entirely too much on their mutations. In this war, it is important to push every advantage. We can't afford to lose, or there will be a massive loss of life." Belle nodded her head, but really, she was still far too overwhelmed to fully comprehend the situation. "That's where you come in, my dear. With your extensive combat training and capabilities, if you choose to accept, I would like you to teach my staff how to defend themselves. After they have become adequate enough, you would then move on to helping my current combat instructor, Logan, with teaching the higher level students."

Her head was still swimming. "Let me get this right… You, somehow, discovered who I am...well, was, and you decided _hey, she looks like a good candidate?_ "

His lips quirked in amusement. "Something like that."

Next thing she knew, Belle was accepting a position as a (covert) combat instruct at the Xavier Institute for mutants.

. . .

The growl that ripped from his throat was one of annoyance and impatience. The Professor had told Logan about the new combat instructor (much to the feral's displeasure). He was supposed to meet her in the danger room after Ororo showed the kid the tour of the mansion. Once she got there, his lesson would begin.

 _Lesson_. It still frustrated Logan to no end. Maybe he wasn't the most qualified at teaching the students how to fight ( _he was no martial artist, after all_ ), but he was most definitely able to take care of himself. The mutant hated the idea of being taught how to fight by some little girl.

Logan could hear voices coming down the hall, and although he had been impatient just moments earlier, suddenly he wished they would just go away. He didn't want to meet this girl. He just wanted her to _leave_.

Especially since the Professor, too-easily-trusting Professor X, had went and hired a non-mutant.

Logan could hear Ororo bid the other woman goodbye. He turned to the door, prepared to bark something impolite, when she walked in.

The comment stuck in his throat.

His eyes slowly trailed over her body. _Holy fuck_ , he thought. Logan immediately felt an undeniable attraction to the woman. Her body was both hard and soft all at once. Her body boasted feminine curves, but she also possessed toned arms, a tight stomach, and muscular thighs. She had a pretty face with deep blue eyes, a small nose with only the slightest indication of having been broken before, and plump pink lips. Her hair was wild and curly, dark blonde against her lightly tanned skin.

Logan could imagine how society would look on her and see a frail girl, but he could decipher the notes of strength and agility that lined her physique and movements.

"Take a picture, 'll last longer."

That jolted him out of scrutiny. He raised his gaze to meet her eyes, noting the mischief in her expression. He scowled. "Why bother? Can look at the real thing right now."

She barked out a laugh. Most women would have scolded him. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"I'm Belle," the blonde introduced, reaching out a hand. He shook it, dully noting how small her hand was in his large grip. "I assume you're Logan?"

He nodded curtly and didn't say anything else. She didn't seem to take offense. That was good. Kid had to have thick skin if she was going to last.

But, then again, he didn't _want_ her to last. She was a regular human, no mutations, and could blow the school's cover. Even if Chuck said she was alright, Logan didn't trust her. She knew too much. Also, _Logan didn't need to be taught how to fucking fight_. He already knew how to fight.

Still, Logan's feral side fought with his logical side. She was sexy as hell; he enjoyed looking at her. He was curious about her, too. Her response to him had been unprecedented.

He tried to wrangle his inappropriate thoughts. Not that he cared about being _proper_ or some other bullshit, but he needed to focus. He didn't trust this woman yet, and he couldn't get distracted just because she was good-looking.

"Where we gonna start, kid?"

He had meant it to be surly and condescending. Either she didn't notice or didn't care. His frown deepened when she snorted, but made no other comment on his attitude. "Well, let's see what you know."

He rose a questioning eyebrow. She nodded her head, answering his silent question. "Attack me."

He smiled widely and moved into position.

"No powers," she cut in, "whatever yours may be. Strictly hand-to-hand. Medium contact, nothing that will leave more than a bruise. Tap if you get in a lock you cannot break it, or as soon as you lose breath in a chokehold."

Logan smirked. "'fraid I'll hurt you, darlin'?"

One corner of her mouth quirked. "No. Every spar requires guidelines. We need to be on the same page. Also, Xavier wanted me to improve your basic fighting skills. That doesn't involve using your mutation as a crutch."

Hi smirk fell, and her laugh sounded again. Logan's anger spiked and he charged. The Wolverine expected to tackle the small woman to the ground, to pin her beneath his weight and make her realize that he wasn't someone to be _toyed_ with.

Instead, he was met with a knee to the solar plexus and felt the air leave his body in a giant _woosh_.

. . .

Belle saw him coming from a mile away. He charged her from across the room with wild abandon. _How predictable_.

She had expected that getting the hulk of a man riled up would cause him to charge. She had expected, but hoped he would prove her wrong. Charging someone from the other side of the room? It was stupid. Stupid, reckless, and _so very slow_.

He charged forward, sneering like an animal. Belle, at the very last moment, side stepped his attack, placed her hands on his right shoulder to help continue his movement, and shoved her knee into his stomach.

He gasped as the air left his lungs, heaved for a moment, but remained on his feet. Belle, feeling particularly giving, gave him the minuscule second he needed to recover. Logan looked furious and completely feral once he regained his breath.

Logan came at her again and again, each time losing more of his control. His strikes became sloppy, he began to telegraph his moves more and become slower. Belle allowed him to wear himself out. She sidestepped, deflected, and guided his movements away from her body. His face contorted in anger and his chest heaved from the exertion. Belle was perfectly calm and her breathing steady. She, unlike Logan, made as little movement necessary to defend herself in order to conserve energy.

Belle considered herself a very patient woman, but her composure was cracking. Her goal had been, with her obvious skill, to replace the look of arrogant disregard from his eyes. She needed Logan to realize that she was very capable and had much to teach him, if only he would _accept it_.

The man growled and took another step at her, throwing his left fist towards her head. Belle quickly slipped the punch, using her arm to guide his momentum forward still, and landed a glancing strike to his ribcage before kicking down at the back of his knee.

Logan, with a grunt, hit the ground this time. He recovered swiftly, though, and made a grab for her. Belle was gone already, however. Logan felt her presence behind him just a moment too late, and Belle had him in a chokehold.

He fell back, slamming his weight into her. Belle adjusted (holy _fuck_ , he was heavy), landing in a way that only slightly stung. As soon as he was on his back, Belle hooked her heels into the insides of his thighs and adjusted her chokehold.

It took almost two minutes, her forearm digging into his throat progressively tighter, before Logan tapped out. She released her grip and he immediately rolled off her, going up on his hands and knees while he coughed.

"Shoulda tapped out earlier." He growled, but said nothing else in reply. "You should have known I had you after just a few moments of struggling. Chokeholds are serious. We're not playing games. Tap as soon as you start struggling for breath."

"I was fine," he nearly spat at her, his eyes glaring daggers.

Belle snorted back a laugh. "Really? Didn't look like it."

He charged her again. Belle groaned. She was really going to have to knock this guy down a few pegs for him to _get it_ and accept her instruction. A right punch flew at her. Belle stepped off the line of attack, parrying with one hand and then the other. Careful stepping moved her into position behind him. A right knee landed in the center of his back ( _T_ _he fuck was this guy made of?_ She felt as if she had kneed a metal wall, rather than a spinal column.) as her hands anchored on his shoulders. Her right leg then continued its motion, re-chambering and then striking the back of his knee. Once he was down, her right hand moved to grab him under the chin and her left hand held onto the top of his head.

He stilled.

"I, if I wanted to, could snap your neck right now. You realize this, right?"

Logan twitched his head, about to nod yes, before he thought better of it. "Yeah," he grunted.

Belle sighed, the frustration finally seeping out of her. "I intended to assess your skill level, not have to beat you into submission first." She released his head and gave him a hand up, which Logan only somewhat begrudgingly accepted.

Their session was much tamer afterwards. Logan, finally having realized her worth, listened to Belle and what she was saying instead of assuming she was incapable. They worked on his fighting stance

His stance was, for the most part, pretty solid. Belle circled the large man, nudging his legs closer together sometimes, reminding him to behind his knees, pushing his hands up higher. By the end of the hour, his stance was significantly better. So was Logan's disposition, she noted.

* * *

 **A/N:** This is the first time I've managed to gather the courage to post a story on fanfiction. I am surprised it's an X-Men fanfiction. I do enjoy the franchise, but it's not something I would have imagined myself writing about. On that note, I've only seen the movies and have not read the comics. Even then, I'm not super knowledgeable on the movies. I hope nothing is wonky or out-of-character. Also, I'm unsure if the fight scenes were too...dry. I'm a martial artist, so they're practical and definitely plausible. I enjoyed composing the techniques and writing them out, but I'm a total nerd, so everyone else may think it sucks. Sorry if that's the case.

 _Please let me know how you feel!_ If you like the beginning of this story, please review, favorite, and the whole shebang. I do tend to start thinking I, and my story, suck typically somewhere after page twenty of a story. Hopefully readers will enjoy this story, tell me so, and then I can realize I don't suck (hopefully I don't suck) and continue to write a non-sucky story.

On that note, I'm all for constructive criticism. If you think I suck, please tell me why. I would love to know why. I can learn from constructive criticism, but I can't learn from simple verbal abuses.

Thank you for reading the beginning of my probably sucky story and my long, self-depreciating author's note!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I want to say thank you to those who reviewed last chapter and chose to follow/favorite this story! I'm glad you guys like it and appreciate the show of support :).

Also, I forgot to mention it last chapter, but this story is set not long after the first X-Men movie. I would say approximately six months to a year afterwards. Yes, that means Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, and Scott Summers are all still alive and will be involved in the story.

But, I'll quit my jabbering now. Without further ado, here's chapter two and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

The first time he heard her name on the news, Logan dismissed it. He likely heard wrong. But then, the name _Belle Rickards_ was said again. His head snapped up and there, on the television screen, was an image of Belle. His eyebrows furrowed.

" _And, in recent financial news,"_ the reporter was saying, " _the CEO of BR Public Accounting, Belle Rickards, gave a statement about progress the company has made and where it is expected to go in the near future."_

CEO? What the hell?

Logan stormed out of the room, startling a few students who had been studying at a nearby table. He marched all the way to Charles Xavier's office. Logan threw open the door, not bothering to knock.

The Professor looked steadily at the Wolverine. He probably had known Logan was on his way, anyhow. The student who had been sitting across from Professor X startled and glanced back towards the now open door. His eyes widened and he quickly scurried out.

"What can I do for you, Logan?" Professor X motioned to the now open seat. Logan didn't move, opting to stand instead.

"Belle Rickards," Logan ground out.

The Professor almost looked like he was feeling exasperated. "I thought everything had gone relatively well."

Logan's anger deflated a little, and he sighed. "It did. She's good, Chuck." His frustration reared its ugly head when he thought back to what he heard on the news. "But she's a public figure. A friggin' CEO of some god damned big company."

"I'm aware."

"Did you even stop to think what that means?" Logan barked. "She makes _one_ slip up and suddenly the whole world knows this school is full of a bunch of mutants!"

The Professor sat forward and folded his hands together. The telepath's expression convinced Logan to quit ranting and listen. "I am perfectly confident in Belle's ability to keep our secret safe."

Logan released the breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "How can you be so sure about that?"

"She has a great deal of experience keeping things hidden from the public."

Logan wasn't sure if that necessarily made him feel better.

. . .

Belle felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. This was new, something she had never done before. It had been necessary, though. She had made the suggestion to Xavier before really thinking about it. Belle knew it was best, but that didn't change the rock that had settled into the pit of her stomach.

She entered the classroom and was met by twenty-three pairs of eyes, all directed right at her.

Belle had been teaching her combat lessons to the X-Men for a week when she decided her and Charles Xavier needed to have a discussion. Belle knew that, sooner or later, somebody was going to notice she was going to the Xavier Institute an awful lot. And when they did, they'd ask questions. What was she doing there? Was she funding the school? Donating?

Xavier had agreed with Belle that it would be a good idea if she taught an introduction to finance class. She was qualified, obviously, and it would be good for the older students to learn necessary life skills such as how to balance a checkbook and apply for loans. But, more importantly, it was a great cover.

Belle wasn't quite sure yet if she was going to regret her idea for a solution.

"Hello," Belle forced a smile as she set her bag down at the front of the classroom. Her stomach twisted. "My name is Belle Rickards, and I'll be teaching Introduction to Finance." A hand went up immediately. Belle inwardly groaned. She pointed to the boy who had situated himself in the back corner of the room (which, historically, wasn't a sign of a good student). "Yes…?"

"John," the boy answered her silent question.

"Okay, John. What's your question?"

"Aren't you too young to be a teacher?"

 _Ugh._ If there was one thing she hated, it was people commenting on her age. Graduating with her masters' at fifteen and going on to climb the corporate ladder, people had constantly mentioned Belle's age. She was too young to be an auditor at sixteen. She was too young to be promoted to the CFO of Chevron at eighteen. She was too young to be the CEO of her own company at twenty. Now, apparently, she was too young to be a teacher at twenty-two (as if that was the most extraordinary of her achievements). People had been telling Belle she was too god damn young all her life and it always got under her skin.

Belle was caught somewhere between ignoring the boy all together or launching her laptop at his face.

She settled for somewhere in the middle. "People have told me I'm too young for a lotta things. Never stopped me before." The boy, John, looked somewhat less smug and slightly more interested. "Back to what I was saying… We're going to go around the room and introduce ourselves. Tell us your name, what you want to do when you graduate, and one miscellaneous fact about yourself."

As it turned out, one miscellaneous fact turned into _tell us what your mutation is_. Belle guessed she shouldn't be too surprised by that. Only one student, a girl with a southern accent and a white streak running through her hair, chose not to disclose her mutation and shared a different fact about herself, instead.

Her students' introductions only served to reinforce the idea that they didn't know she was not a mutant, and probably would be hesitant with that knowledge. Belle decided it would be best to share that detail and have it out in the open right away.

"Like I said, my name's Belle Rickards. I'd actually prefer if you all called me Belle, though. Miss Rickards sounds way too formal. I run my own business and-"

A knock sounded at the door. Belle looked over to the open doorway and saw Charles Xavier. She smiled, glad that he was likely about to save her from having to make the announcement of her human status to a classroom of teenaged mutants all by herself.

"Ah, Professor Xavier." The relief must have been evident in her voice (either that or he had sensed it in her mind) because he smiled knowingly. "We were just making introductions."

He rolled himself to the front of the classroom. "I see. Have you told them about yourself yet?"

 _As you can tell from the lack of a riot, I have not told them yet._ Xavier must have been tuned into her thoughts, because his expression was caught between amusement and disapproval. Apparently he had more faith in the students' reactions than she did.

"Students," Xavier called out. Despite being in a wheelchair, his voice and very presence commanded respect. "We are very fortunate to have Belle Rickards teach at our institution. She is a CEO of a Fortune 500 company and has volunteered to take time out of her busy day to teach this class. I expect you all will take advantage of what she has to offer." Most of the students looked stunned. A few looked on in realization, probably having heard her name before. Belle stood awkwardly, not incredibly comfortable with the new attention. She was a CEO at only twenty-two, and very proud of that, but Belle didn't like to announce it to random people. It was just her job. It was normal to her, but bizarre to others.

 _Go ahead and tell them._ Xavier's voice, speaking to her without his lips moving, scared her out of her thoughts.

 _Well, here goes nothing._ "I'm not a mutant." The whole class suddenly looked more attentive. "I couldn't care less that all of you are. It makes no difference to me." She paused to glance over at the Professor. He nodded for her to continue. "Also, this isn't the only way I'm involved with the school. I'm helping with hand-to-hand combat and some of you will probably see me in your danger room sessions within the next few months." Belle paused, gauging the students' responses. "I will not tell anyone about this school. As far as the public knows and will continue to know, this is a regular school for gifted youths. I would appreciate if you did the same, and my involvement in any combat training was...kept on the down low."

Belle and her students seemed to come to an understanding. She would keep their secrets, and they would keep hers.

. . .

Jean listened to the chatter around her the next day. The talk of the school was about the new finance professor, Belle Rickards. Jean had already met her, of course. Belle and Jean met up every Wednesday at four o'clock in the afternoon for lessons, as well as Saturday mornings at nine A.M.

Dr. Jean Grey found Belle to be very knowledgeable in martial arts. She was quick and precise with her movements, and her body held a silent aura of strength. Jean had been suspicious, at first, of where the other woman had learned how to fight so well. Professor X hadn't told Jean when she asked, but he had told her that Belle was a good person and could be trusted.

Jean, of course, took the Professor's word for it. She couldn't help wondering, still.

Scott wondered, too. They had talk about it one night, and Scott had voiced his curiousness. Ororo seemed fine to not know. She wasn't as inquisitive in nature. Logan, however, was almost anxious about the matter. Belle had, seemingly, earned the Wolverine's respect, but not his trust. He would, when given the opportunity, pepper the blonde with questions. Jean had witnessed him nearly interrogating her at their first Saturday session, which was a group lesson that required all of the staff to attend. Belle was somehow able to avoid answering his questions in full without seeming evasive or rude. Jean imagined that skill came with being a businesswoman.

"She's not a mutant," one of the younger students named Emily fretted. "What if she tells everyone about us?"

The red-haired professor sighed. She knew it would take some time for all of the students to become comfortable with the idea. Jean inserted herself into the conversation. "Don't worry, Emily." Emily looked to Jean with wide eyes. "The Professor trusts Belle. She poses no threat."

Emily looked somewhat less worried. "Really? Professor X says she's okay?"

Jean smiled comfortingly at the girl. "Yes, of course. He wouldn't allow her anywhere near the school or the students unless Belle was one-hundred percent trustworthy."

The school, after a few days, moved on to the next topic of gossip as Belle was gradually accepted by the students.

* * *

 **A/N:** I needed to do some set up in this chapter, so I apologize if it gets boring at times. Also, I didn't really get to proofread, so there may be a couple errors. Feel free to let me know if you spot any! My chapters are relatively short, so I plan to update at least once a week (although that may not always happen because college).

Anyway, hope you enjoyed chapter two! Please review so I can know how I'm doing :).


	3. Chapter 3

Jean was his girl. He loved her, and she loved him. They had been together for almost two years when Logan showed up at the Charles Xavier's doors.

Logan's blatant attraction to and flirting with Jean had been off-putting. Scott had assumed it would stop after Jean rejected him. It didn't. Scott waited a month. He figured Logan's advances would stop once he recognized his attempts were futile. Still, it didn't stop.

Scott tried to ignore it. He trusted Jean, so why should Logan's interest in his girlfriend be so frustrating? Scott had even talked to Jean about it, just to be sure. She had reassured him that the feelings Logan had for her were one-sided and their friendship was, from her point-of-view, completely platonic.

Scott trusted Jean. _He did not trust Logan._ Logan had a blatant disregard for rules. He was a typical "bad boy." Scott wouldn't be surprised to find out that Logan had tried something with Jean, that he made a move.

He was always on edge when Logan was around, and even more so when Logan _and_ Jean were around. Jean maintained her usual demeanor and was friendly with Logan. She considered them friends. He wished she didn't, but Scott couldn't do anything about it. He wouldn't want to, anyway. Jean was her own person and he trusted her completely.

It didn't mean he had to like their friendship and it _definitely_ didn't mean he had to like Logan.

Jean sometimes tried to play the mediator. She wanted Logan and Scott, at the very least, to be civil. They were mostly civil outwardly, but there was always an underlying feeling of hostility.

It was mutual, too. Logan hated Scott even more than Scott hated Logan. To Logan, Scott was in the way. He was the man standing in the way of the woman he desired.

Scott was constantly on his toes around Logan, always paying attention to any hidden implications and meaningful looks. It was because of this that Scott noticed Logan backing off.

He was relieved. He was thankful. Finally, Logan was accepting the reality. He was accepting that he couldn't have Jean, and he was moving on.

But, then, Scott was also confused. Logan had been after Jean for over a year. It didn't make sense that he would just suddenly lessen his efforts.

What had changed?

. . .

Saturday morning sessions were Belle's favorite. Group lessons, as opposed to one-on-one, allowed for more freedom. She could use one of her "students" as her opponent for a demonstration. Belle could put the four X-Men into pairs and observe as they ran drills. The group sessions were also a way to keep track of her students. By seeing them all work together, Belle could pinpoint who was slipping behind and what areas, overall, they needed to focus more on.

Still, there were some flaws to having group lessons. For instance, there was some major tension between Scott and Logan. And the reason was obvious to anyone with a brain. Logan had a thing for Jean, and Jean was Scott's girlfriend.

Maybe being forced to spend more time together was forcing Scott and Logan into somewhat of a camaraderie. Maybe the release of tension sparring provided was dissipating some of the strain in their relationship. Regardless of the reason, Scott and Logan's interactions were much less contentious as time went on.

It was on their fifth Saturday that everything went to shit.

It had started off fine. They went over some principles together before Belle split them into pairs. They alternated partners every five minutes. On the last round, Logan and Scott ended up together. They were both serious and unspeaking as the two worked through the Hubud drill. The animosity that had colored their interactions was quickly dissipating.

Belle noticed, after about minute two of the last round, that Scott was giving Logan a curious stare. He was sizing the other man up. Logan had noticed, too. What had started as his typical dispassionate stare was quickly morphing into a contemptuous look. Belle ached to step in, but didn't want to accidentally cause a scene by bringing attention to the exchange.

Apparently, she shouldn't have worried about that.

"What are you lookin' at, bub?"

Jean and Ororo immediately stopped what they were doing and turned towards the two men. Belle groaned.

Scott's returning smile was obviously meant to be disarming. It, typically, would have worked. Not on Logan, though. "Nothing, man. Let's just get back to what we were doing."

Belle crossed her fingers. _Back the fuck down, Logan._ If he didn't stop this, she was going to have to step in. And Belle _really_ didn't want to have to do that.

He didn't back down. Logan growled at Scott. _Literally growled._ He took a step forward, entering Scott's personal space.

Exasperated and agitated, Belle closed the distance between them. She quickly inserted herself between Logan and Scott. Logan looked surprised, at first, and then angry.

"Out."

His nose flared. Logan took a step closer to her. He leaned down, his face only a few centimeters from Belle's. It was meant to be intimidating. It _would_ have been intimidating. Instead, Belle's heart rate spiked for an altogether separate reason.

She released the breath she had been holding and squared her shoulders. "I said out. Apparently you and Summers have some issues to work out. So grab your shit and get the fuck out." Belle positioned herself so that she could view both Logan and Scott. "Both of you can go see Xavier for some couples' counseling. You guys fuckin' need it."

"Couples' counseling?" Scott asked, partly surprised and partly annoyed. She shot him a look, though, and he quickly turned to get his things and leave.

Logan, as per usual, was not as easy. He moved back into her space, pointed his finger sharply into her chest, and sneered. "Now, you listen here, kid-"

"Shut the fuck up, Logan." He actually bared his teeth at her. What the fuck?

"I don't have to listen to you." The statement was so childish that Belle wondered if losing so much of his memory had caused Logan some regression of age.

Belle swatted his hand away from her. "Actually, you do. You see, this is _my_ lesson. If I don't want you to fucking be here for it, then I have every right to voice that. You're being an immature little brat and interrupting _my_ class. You need to learn some goddamn control and respect. This is fuckin' ridiculous. _I won't have it, Logan._ "

Logan was at a loss for words. He was obviously shocked by her outburst. _Good._ Logan slowly turned on his heel and left the room.

. . .

Logan was not looking forward to Monday.

After Scott had left and they had come to a reluctant truce (sort of), Professor X had asked Logan to stay behind. The two had a long chat, and somewhere along the way Logan had agreed to apologize to Belle for his outburst.

Why had he agreed to that? Now he was committed.

Walking into the danger room was an awkward affair. He could hear Belle's heartbeat, smell her scent. He knew she was in there.

She wasn't looking in his direction when he entered, meaning she didn't see his look of surprise.

Belle was lounging in a chair on the opposite side of the room, wearing a gray top and black skirt (not moveable clothing at all), and reading a book. Her typically messy hair was tamed into a braid.

Logan paused and scrunched his eyes. "Are we…not training today?"

Belle didn't answer right away. She hesitated a few seconds, likely finishing her page, before laying the book face down. She turned the chair and met his eyes.

"Actually, we're not." Logan rose an eyebrow at her. Belle smiled in return. Apparently she had gotten over his slight meltdown. He sure as hell hadn't.

Belle got up from her chair and moved so that she was sitting on the table. "Pop a squat," she said, indicating to the now empty chair. Logan slowly made his way across the room and took a seat in the offered chair.

There was an awkward pause as they both sat still and didn't say anything, but neither looked away. "I'm…sorry for freaking out." Well, Logan sure as hell hadn't expected that. "You were obviously tense, for whatever irrational reason, but I only exacerbated the problem. I should have remained calm. _Hell,_ _I was trained to always remain calm_."She immediately regretted saying that. She hadn't meant to. Logan was about to interject and ask what she meant, but Belle plowed onwards. "I shouldn't have yelled. It was uncalled for. So, there. I'm sorry."

Another uncomfortable pause.

"'M sorry, too," Logan muttered quietly. When he looked up, though, his eyes looked on Belle's and he knew she had heard him.

She smiled, apparently appeased by his lame-ass apology, and hopped down from the table. "Welp, now that that's over… Wanna get some food?"

Another curveball. How did she keep surprising him like that? No one else seemed able to, except for little Belle Rickards. "Huh?"

"Well," she started, "I figure this whole shebang coulda been avoided if we understood each other better. Step one of understanding each other better is to have a lil' more normal interaction. And normal interaction doesn't include kicking the shit out of each other a couple times a week. So…dinner?"

He hesitated. Logan knew he could say no. This wasn't part of their combat lessons. It wasn't part of their agreement. He had no obligation to this.

"Sure." 

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading guys! And thanks to those who reviewed/favorited/followed after last chapter. The feedback is greatly appreciated :).

So, this took longer to get out than expected. I have totally legitimate reasons though. Ready? So I went down to North Carolina for the weekend. From Massachusetts, that's like a 16 hour drive. Kicked my ass. That weekend consisted of 50% drinking, 50% fuckery, and 0% writing. Sorry. Then I was behind on schoolwork when I got back, so I've been hauling ass to finish shit. And then I opened my word doc to start writing and realized I had no fucking idea what to write. So, after staring at a blank page for almost an hour, I finally started writing and it was reaaaaally slow going.

But, anyway, enough bitching. It's out. It didn't really take that long, only a week + 1 day, but I had said I'd update at least once a week so I felt kinda like a fraud. I think I was too excited and a little over ambitious when I said that. It will probs be at least once every two weeks. Sorry, I'm an asshole.

Okay. Please review, guys! Reviews are wicked awesome because when you guys favorite/follow (That's great. I love it. Thanks and please keep it up!) but don't review, I get all lonely. So does my story. Story=kinda lonely. Only kinda though because it has some reviews and a good amount of follows/favorites. And now I'm ranting because today I've lacked human interaction. All I've done is school, more schoolwork, and writing this. So yeah, this is embarrassing and I'm gonna go now.


	4. Chapter 4

Logan was so tense that he actually looked constipated. She had hoped spending some time together, outside of the high stress environment their training provided, would allow her to get to know the rugged man better.

They had taken his truck, like Logan had suggested. Belle thought it was a good idea. Her Lamborghini usually drew attention, and she had a feeling that would make Logan even more uncomfortable. They went to a small, hole-in-the-wall diner. Belle thought Logan would be more at ease there than if they went somewhere more public. Plus, despite being on the bad side of town, it was one of Belle's favorite places to eat. They made a mean chicken broccoli alfredo.

But, even by the time their food was brought out, Logan was being about as good of a dinner partner as the annoyingly colored mustard yellow wall to her left. Maybe the wall was a better companion, actually. At least it didn't bark at the staff and scare them half to death.

"Ya know," Belle started, "being rude to the wait staff is known to lead to them spitting in your food."

Logan scoffed. "Probably too scared to try."

Belle smirked and shook her head no. "Wouldn't count on that."

He grumped at her still, seemingly unmoved by her try at conversation. Belle considered throwing an especially large piece of broccoli at the grouch.

"Whatever, Oscar."

Logan's head shot up. He looked mildly annoyed, but mostly curious. "Oscar?"

"Yeah. Oscar the grouch?" When Logan continued to stare at her blankly, Belle sighed dramatically. "Oscar the grouch. He's a Sesame Street character. Guy definitely lives up to his name, too." Logan glared. A mischievous glint caught in Belle's eyes and she smirked at the man across the table. "Lives in a trash can, too. Probably smells like shit. Another thing you'd probably have in common."

Logan really _did_ growl this time, and Belle burst out laughing. Their waitress, a chubby girl named Sherry, shot the duo a terrified glance. Logan seemed to catch on to that, too, and cracked a smile. Belle laughed even harder.

She still wouldn't consider Logan a talkative companion, but he was at least contributing some conversation after her Oscar comment.

At one point, a couple of thugs walked into the diner. They were obviously high, probably coked out. One of them went to sit down, knocking over the table and three chairs in his failure to do so. The other walked to the counter and started making crude comments to the petite brunette stationed there. Belle immediately noticed Logan's fists clench, his muscles preparing for a fight. He shot Belle a look, and she shook her head no. He relaxed minutely.

When things were about to escalate, a small and portly Irish man, approximately in his sixties, came running out of the kitchen in a three-piece suit and wielding a butcher's knife. He was the owner of the restaurant and, unfortunately, this was not a very uncommon occurrence.

Logan's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Where the hell did you find this place, Belle?"

She smiled while he still wasn't looking. Logan had called her Belle, something he had yet to outright do. He would say her name to get her attention, but other than that it was _kid_ or some other term that would grate at Belle's nerves.

They were making some progress, it would seem.

"Used to come here all the time when I was in college. Great food and low prices. 'Bout the only thing I could afford back then."

His gaze shot to her, and Logan's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Belle read the silent question in his eyes, but didn't answer. It wasn't something Belle really wanted to get into deeply. This night was supposed to be casual and light. They didn't need to go digging up rough pasts.

Right then, saved by the figurative bell, the owner rushed to their table. "My sincerest apologies for what you just had to witness. I'll take half off of your meals to make up for it."

"No, no," Belle cut in immediately. "Thank you, sir, but that's completely unnecessary. We'll pay full price."

"I insist-"

Belle shook her head furiously. "No, _I_ insist. We'll pay. It's really no problem."

The older gentleman smiled at her fondly, then, and said a deeply accented thank you. He left them their check before walking away. Belle immediately pulled out her wallet. She laid out the price for both their meals (despite Logan's protest that he could pay for his own food), adding a couple one-hundred dollar bills. She wrote a note on the check: _$100 for the restaurant and $100 for Sherry. Have a good night!_

Logan's stare was filled with speculation when she turned back to him.

Belle narrowed her eyes. "What?"

Logan startled slightly, which startled Belle in return. When did the wolverine ever _startle_?

"Just…" he hesitated, seemingly sizing her up, "wasn't expecting that."

She gave him an unfazed look before shrugging her shoulders. "Not like I don't have the money."

His lip quirked and he looked somewhat amused by her. "Most people, even rich folks, wouldn't of done that."

"Well, most people are shit bags," she muttered under her breath.

But, of course, Logan heard her. _Damn super hearing_. He snickered quietly. "Got that right, kid." His use of _kid_ sounded not nearly as demeaning as usual, at the very least.

. . .

"Babe, what's on your mind?"

Rogue startled from her daydream. Bobby was looking at her, his eyes conveying his concern. The brunette smiled at Bobby, trying to let him know everything was okay. When that didn't seem to comfort her boyfriend, Rogue sighed.

 _This could turn out to be quite embarrassing._

She turned her gaze back to where it had previously been. Across the cafeteria, standing closer together than what was strictly necessary, was Logan and Belle.

It had been almost two months since Belle had started teaching the finance classes at the Xavier Institute. At first, Rogue thought, it seemed like Logan would purposely go out of his way to avoid the small teacher. After a few weeks of that, though, that stopped. Rogue noticed them sometimes talking in the halls, and even leaving the school grounds together a few times. In the past week, Rogue believed she had seen a shift in their relationship.

She couldn't help it. Rogue was excited for the possibility of Logan having found someone. Logan was the person who found her and brought her to the school. He had helped her immensely, and Rogue felt as if she owed him a lot. After what had happened with Jean, Rogue especially wanted the wolverine to find a nice girl. She wanted for Logan to be happy and to have someone who loved him.

Rogue admitted to herself that she was somewhat of a hopeless romantic.

Jubilee, a relatively new student who Rogue had taken an instant liking to, followed her line of sight. "Oh! Yeah, I _so_ ship them."

John looked confused. "What?"

"Logan and Belle!"

Rogue grinned. Hey, at least she wasn't the only one who saw it. "I think they'd be cute together."

John's raucous laughter caused her smile to dim. Kitty Pryde smacked his shoulder.

Bobby still looked confused. Rogue sighed. Her boyfriend was absolutely hopeless. "I don't see it."

All five of them at the cafeteria table—Rogue, Bobby, John, Kitty, and Jubilee—were now watching the two teachers closely. Belle said something to Logan and he, in turn, leaned closer to whisper something to her. The blonde's face screwed up in disgust and she immediately walked away. Logan's loud laughter boomed, and Belle immediately flipped the bird over her shoulder, not missing a beat.

"Never mind. I totally see it."

. . .

 _Today has not been a good day._

It had been one thing after another. First, Belle had caught her CFO fucking his secretary. They didn't even do it in his office, which was at least private. No, Belle had caught them fucking on the table in the break room. Not just any break room, but the break room only high leveled executives were allowed in. They had been fucking on the break room table. The break room table Belle had been planning on eating her lunch on.

She immediately fired the both of them. _Pack your shit and get out_ , that had been her eloquent phrasing.

Her next order of business was to destroy the table. She supposed cleaning it would suffice, though, so she called maintenance. Her exact directions were to use bleach and a flamethrower. And, because she had spoken to Lenny, her extremely obtuse maintenance man, he would probably take her seriously. Belle couldn't even bring herself to feel bad. If the poor man really went in search for a flamethrower and burned the table to ashes, she decided there would be no penalties. She definitely wouldn't miss the table after what had happened on it.

The loss of her CFO was instantly felt, considering the corporation was reviewing their financial statements. An external auditor would be sent over in just a week to review them. There was still a fuck ton of work to do.

Belle sighed and set in to do her work as the CEO, plus the CFO's work. She tried to think positively. At least she had fired her CFO. She could do his job in her sleep. If it had been her CIO, for example, Belle would have been fucked. She knew nothing about IT.

Not nearly as fucked as her ex-CFO's secretary, though.

That poor girl. The man was at least twice her age. What was she thinking? It's not like she didn't get paid decently.

Because of the extra workload Belle had to perform, she was absolutely swamped. She finished her own duties, but the financial work was left abandoned at one in the afternoon for a last minute board meeting.

The board meeting was business as usual, which meant everyone was pleasant and happy with the company's progress except for Mr. Richard Vey. He griped about everything and was, in summation, a royal pain in everyone's ass.

Belle left the meeting late. She made a mad dash to Xavier's school, walking into her classroom almost a full ten minutes late. John opened his mouth, as if to make a comment.

"Mr. Allerdyce," Belle cut in, her voice stern, "if that's a smartass remark you're about to make, I highly suggest you rethink it."

Her tone must have done the trick, because he immediately shut his mouth. Belle smiled, but it was bereft of any warmth.

"Quiz results today. Read 'em and weep, kiddos."

She was only half-kidding. The class average was only a seventy-eight. Not overly impressive.

Her training session after class was with Ro. She seemed to instantly catch on to Belle's foul mood and made up a terrible excuse to cut their session short by twenty minutes. Belle was fuming and she needed to punch something.

Without further ado, she set out to find Logan. He'd be a good sport.

. . .

His nap was interrupted by loud and annoying knocking. Logan growled as he threw the blankets off of his body and stormed to his bedroom door, letting expletives fly all the while.

When he opened the door to find little Belle Rickards standing there, he felt somewhat less aggravated.

Her expression was stony, void of her usual happy demeanor. Logan raised an eyebrow at the woman.

"What crawled up your ass?"

"Nothing." Her response was curt. When Logan didn't say anything else, she let out a long-suffering breath. "Sorry. I've had a bad day."

"No shit."

Belle looked up then, finally meeting his eyes. She had been, in her fury, simply staring a hole in his chest. His bare chest, Logan only just realized. Belle didn't react outwardly, though, so he didn't move to do anything about it.

"Spar me?"

Logan didn't answer, instead moving further into his room. He threw on a random tee shirt and sat down on his bed, beginning to pull his sneakers on. Belle followed him in, leaning against a far wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Ya gonna tell me what happened?" Logan wondered if he'd regret asking.

Belle sighed. She moved across the room and sat next to him on the bed. Her head rested in her hands and she blew out another long, frustrated breath. "Walked in on my CFO fucking his secretary in the break room today."

The bedroom was completely silent for a long moment. When Logan couldn't hold it back anymore, he burst out in laughter. The small blonde who sat beside him shot him a look.

"You only think it's funny 'cause you didn't have to witness what I did! I'll have nightmares for weeks."

Logan smirked. "It couldn't have been _that_ bad."

Belle glared at him. "Don't say that. I've never seen such saggy balls. Jesus, it was awful." Logan laughed again, and Belle reluctantly smirked. "I had to fire them both, of course. Now I have double the work to do. As if I don't have enough work to do _already_."

Twenty minutes later, the two found themselves entering the empty danger room. Belle didn't give Logan any time to get organized, immediately dropping into a defensive stance.

The wolverine smirked and tossed his watch from his wrist to the floor on the other side of the room, not taking his eyes off the woman standing across from her.

As soon as Logan dropped into his stance, Belle attacked.

She was much more offensive than usual, but Logan was surprised to find that her strikes were as controlled as ever. Logan drew on all that he had learned in the past two and a half months and focused on keeping his defense up and anticipating her moves. As always, though, it was almost impossible to anticipate Belle. She never telegraphed any of her moves. Instead, Logan had to rely on his past experiences. Like how he knew Belle liked to follow up roundhouse kicks with a spinning hook kick. It wasn't an exact science. The blonde was too smart for that and often mixed up her strikes. Still, at least a quarter of the time she threw a roundhouse kick, a spinning hook followed.

In a lapse of concentration, Belle swept Logan to the ground. He was a hell of a lot better than just a month ago, though, and Logan rolled with it, slipping his arm from Belle's grip. Logan was on all fours a moment later, and charged back in.

He was close enough that Belle wasn't able to avoid the tackle. He knew Belle hated tackles. She thought they were slow and mostly ineffective. She had told him time after time that they would almost never work against an experienced fighter his size.

Still, Belle was most definitely not an experienced fighter _his size_.

She went down quick and hard. Logan momentarily worried that he had hurt her, but then he remembered that this was _Belle_ and that concern flitted away.

Logan silently cursed himself when he realized his error. He had gotten carried away and not thought much about his positioning. Belle had fallen with her legs open, and therefore, would be able to use her leverage to throw him.

His mind moving a mile a minute, Logan moved one hand and gripped her thigh, pushing it against the ground and counteracting her leverage. Belle, now having one arm free, threw her elbow into his chest. He was too close to her, though. She had no good targets, none that would cause him to move off her, and she couldn't generate enough power.

Logan kept his hand on her thigh, holding it down, as he slid his leg over top of hers and to her side. He repeated the action on the other side, slow and keeping his body down low. He ended up with his legs straddling her waist and his feet hooked into the back of her thighs. Logan rested his chest on hers and curled his arms underneath her shoulders, just like she had done to him numerous times.

She struggled at first, trying to get him to release his grip. Logan stayed low, though, and wouldn't allow Belle any leverage. Finally, after a few minutes, her movements stilled.

Logan picked up his head and smirked down at her. He was surprised to find her beaming up at him. "You're getting better, Logan. That's the first time you've beat me."

Logan's smirk twisted into a grin and he felt his stomach flip. _Fuck._

* * *

 **A/N:** Hi guys! I'm wicked sorry this is late. I've been swamped this past month with school. Well, not all of school, just one class specifically. It's the class from hell. However, it's for my major and I do enjoy it even though it's hard as fuck. Also, I got a 107 on my quiz! (It's out of 110. The class is so fucking hard that they have to scale it that much just to get the class average up to a 70. Yay Accounting!)

Anyway, this is slightly longer than usual. Approximately 3 pages (in my word document) longer than my usual chapter. So hopefully that'll makeup for the fact that this is like a week late!

Without further ado, I hope you guys enjoyed chapter 4! Logan and Belle have finally gotten comfortable around each other. Which is especially fun 'cause now I can write them being all sassy with each other in less of a I'm-going-to-chuck-you-out-a-window manner and in more of a friend/flirty kind of way.

Thank you to all of those who have taken a continued interest in my story! (You can tell I'm driving myself nuts with studying for my accounting midterm because as soon as I wrote the word interest my mind went: "Nontcontrolling interest, subtracted from net income!") Also a special thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter! Feedback is always greatly appreciated. Thank you to everyone who's been supporting my story!

Please remember to review, favorite, follow, the whole shebang if you enjoyed this chapter :).

 **Update:** I noticed an error in Logan's pin at the end of this chapter. I corrected it in the fourth paragraph from the bottom. I had originally stated that Logan rested his forearms beside Belle's head. This, however, is not how the hold should have been enacted. His arms should be curling underneath her shoulders and gripping tightly, which is much more effective in retaining the hold. This is a move from jujitsu, an art I've dabbled in and know the basics of, but have only limited knowledge of. I remembered afterwards how to correctly perform the technique and have adjusted the final scene to show this.


	5. Chapter 5

_My office, if you would, Belle._

It was a biweekly arrangement that Charles Xavier would call Belle to his office for updates on the progress of her training. Belle had begun, in the past few weeks, joining Logan for the danger room sessions and teaching some of the older students combat, as well as his professors. The students were just beginning, so understandably they were only just starting to get the basics.

Charles' team, the X-Men, were improving drastically, it would seem. Jean, although having had a rough start, was now what Belle deemed to be _satisfactory_. Ororo and Scott were making steady progress that had both the Professor and Belle pleased. Unsurprisingly, Logan was the girl's star pupil.

What was surprising to Charles was the camaraderie the reclusive mutant and the young genius had seemed to form. Each seemed to have a positive effect on the other, which was even more remarkable. Logan was less gruff than previously and Belle seemed less closed off. The Professor had his suspicions about their relationship, but would not probe either of their minds for answers. He figured, anyway, that the small smirk that Logan wore when Belle was around and the way Belle's shoulders eased when Logan entered a room was answer enough.

"What's up, X?"

It was sometimes difficult to picture the young woman, always so casual in his presence, as the CEO of a large corporation. All he had to do was visit her classroom or poke his head in for one of her training sessions, however, to remind himself of what she was capable of. Yes, Belle was often nonchalant in normal conversation, but the girl had a stern streak and the ability to demand respect with a simple look or just a few words.

Charles smiled pleasantly at the blonde leaning in his doorway. He motioned to one of the two seats placed in front of his desk. Belle, taking the invitation, closed the door behind her and sat down.

"How is your training of the students progressing?"

Belle smiled genuinely. It was obvious she cared for the students. "Better than expected. They're all very interested and it's obvious many have been practicing. Logan and I have just been working the basics, but the students are showing much promise."

Charles noticed the twinkle in Belle's eyes when she mentioned the feral. He smiled in response, wondering when the two adults would realize life is too short to waste by not being with the one you care for.

"I'm glad to hear," Professor X replied. "And how are Jean, Logan, Scott, and Ororo doing?"

Belle's lips twitched into a smirk. "Wonderfully. Jean's finally caught up with the rest of them and is on track. Scott and Ororo, as has been true throughout their training, are still progressing steadily. If I was giving grades, Logan would get an A plus and be top of my class. Did I tell you he managed to pin me the other week?"

Charles raised an eyebrow at the girl. "I expect you weren't fighting to your full potential."

She snorted. "Well _of course_ I wasn't. I never do. If I didn't hold back, there would be no point in sparring with Logan, or any of them, really. Sparring with someone so superior that they win the fight in just a few short moments doesn't promote development. However, sparring with a person who is more skilled than you are but not too far out of your league is a great tool for advancement."

Belle spoke some more on her students' progress, also mentioning some about her finance students and how one in particular had shown a serious interest in the accounting and finance field. Charles smiled softly as Belle raved about her students animatedly, her hands flurrying about and moving rapidly. It was nice to see her so enthusiastic, given all that the girl had been through.

Belle took her leave after about an hour, and Charles decided to call someone else for a chat. _Please come to my office, Logan._

Charles had to hide his smirk when the Wolverine entered his office, leaning against the doorframe in much the same manner as Belle had just an hour earlier, and asked, "What's up, Chuck?"

Those two were way more compatible than Charles thought either of them realized.

. . .

The subtle movements and actions of a person were never lost on Belle. Her training had been rigorous and well-rounded. She could read people as easily as she could read a book or a financial statement. It was second nature to her, by now.

It was for this reason she noticed the shift in Logan's behavior.

It had started almost a month prior, after her spar with Logan on the day she had fired one of her high executives. She noticed it in the clench of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, the tension that thrummed through his body. His touch often lingered, as did his gaze.

This development wasn't terribly off putting. Such attention from a man wasn't a new concept to Belle.

What caused her trepidation was a different element of their relationship. It was the admiration is his eyes, the softness in his smiles, the way his tone was slightly less gruff with her. The nature of how Logan interacted with her was significantly different than how he interacted with, say, Ororo or Xavier.

The Wolverine had developed feelings for her.

Belle wasn't sure how she felt about that specific revelation.

Was she physically attracted to Logan? That was a simple question and easy to answer. Yes, she absolutely was. Belle had realized that the moment she had first laid eyes on him.

Did she have romantic feelings for Logan? Another simple question, but slightly more difficult to answer. Yes, Belle was reasonably certain she had feelings for Logan. Without consciously knowing it, at first, Belle had returned the older man's affections. She laughed more easily around him. In Logan's presence, Belle felt her walls come down and she felt at ease around him. It was a considerable difference from the way she was around everyone else—tense, constantly on guard, always aware of everything happening around her.

Did she want anything to come of their feelings for each other? _Yes._ Her immediate answer was yes. Belle had never felt for someone as she did for Logan. He made her laugh and smile. He understood her sense of humor. He made her feel young and carefree. _He made her forget about her past_ , if only for a few moments.

But, when reality came crashing in, Belle's answer changed to a resounding _no._ She didn't do meaningful relationships. Caring about someone deeply was a liability, and it never ended well. She had learned that early on in life, and Belle couldn't afford to have such a weakness. And she wouldn't risk Logan, wouldn't paint a target on his back.

As time continued to progress, Logan became more forward, more blatant with his intentions. He would make a move eventually, Belle knew, and probably sooner rather than later. She didn't know what she would do when that day came.

. . .

Logan realized his feelings for Belle were growing at an alarming rate. He was falling for her hard, harder than he would like to admit. He also noticed the apparent conflict that warred in her expression at certain times.

He was fairly certain she felt for him as he did for her. It was obvious, though, that Belle was confused. Confused about what, precisely, Logan was not certain.

A timid man he was not. Logan, upon recognizing the depth of his feelings for the petite blonde woman, had wanted to take action. He wanted her to know how he felt. Logan, however, was not very good with words. He would show her with his actions.

He almost had, too. Logan had stopped by Belle's office to get lunch, as he had begun doing in more recent times, and the pair had ended up walking through a nearby wooded park after their meal. Belle had said something sarcastic and he had looked over at her, feeling a rare smile stretch across his lips. She was already looking at him, a malevolent twinkle in her stare. It had quickly melted away upon meeting his gaze, and her expression had grown softer. Almost affectionate.

His eyes darted down to the curve of her lips. Logan took a small step forward. Brown eyes met blue and, for the first time since meeting Belle Rickards, Logan realized Belle was unsure of herself. He paused, hesitated, and cocked his head to the side in a silent question. _Are you alright?_ The blonde's gaze immediately hardened. The carefree woman before him now wore a mask of cool indifference.

It was something that frightened Logan. Belle would laugh with him, smile with him, joke with him. But, then, as if someone had pulled an invisible trigger, her entire demeanor would change. Belle's countenance would shift from the woman he knew and was coming to care deeply for to one he didn't recognize or understand at all. The look in her eyes would become blank, the line of her lips straight, and her attitude would thrum with complete apathy. Every time it happened, a cold, pinpricking sensation would ripple through Logan's body. The woman, in those relatively rare moments, who stood before Logan was not Belle Rickards, genius CEO with incredible martial arts skills and a sarcastic streak that ran deep. She was someone different altogether. She was a woman who had seen more than any twenty-two year old should.

Logan had a strong suspicion that Belle's behavior had a direct correlation to the missing chunk of her life.

The two had become very close over the past few months and, as a result, Belle had begun opening up to him about her past. He knew she had been born in Boston, Massachusetts and lived there with her parents. Belle had told him, after consuming a couple drinks after a particularly awful workday, that she had lost her parents at a young age. She had only been four when they were killed, her mother with a gunshot to the head and her father's throat opened from ear to ear. Logan had rested a reassuring hand on the woman's shoulder and looked her in the eyes, hoping his gaze would convey his compassion where his words could not. Her eyes had been blank then, too.

Logan knew that Belle started college when she was eleven and, after just four years of schooling, had begun her career in public accounting. She had fought tooth and nail to climb her way up the corporate ladder to the very top.

He knew a great deal about Belle's back story, but he had only glimpsed details of her life from the mysterious seven year gap after her parents died and before she started college. What could have possibly happened to Belle in those seven years that would cause the distant look in her eyes?

Logan was not stupid and, for this reason, realized that those missing seven years were likely when Belle learned her combat skills. It was the only thing that made sense. She wouldn't have been able to dedicate the time and commitment needed to ascertain such skills while taking six plus college classes per semester or working in public accounting sixty hours a week or running a corporation. It only made sense that Belle had been trained sometime between the age of four and eleven.

Why would someone train a child so young, though? Did it have something to do with her parents' murder? Had the murderer been after Belle, too, and someone had taught the young girl to defend herself? And how did a girl so young, just an ordinary little girl, become so good in the first place?

The more Logan thought about it, the angrier he became. He was angry that Belle wouldn't open up to him about that particular part of her past, and he was angry for being angry at Belle in the first place.

The more he fretted about her elusive past and the impervious mask she sometimes wore, the more Logan thought he didn't really _know_ Belle Rickards. But, no, that wasn't exactly true. Logan _did_ know Belle. He knew she was sarcastic as hell and loved to rile him up. When Belle was unimpressed, she would raise her left eyebrow and cock her hip to the side. When amused, a playful glint would shine in her eyes and she would smirk playfully. Her nose scrunched up when she was embarrassed or uncomfortable, and she bit her lip when she was nervous or thinking overly hard. Belle loved her job as CEO, but often missed the work that went along with a purely accounting position. She enjoyed teaching finance to the students, detested when they referred to her as _miss_ , and was sorely tempted to strangle the class clown in her period six class but secretly found him humorous. She loved martial arts and the thrill of a fight, which she often expressed by challenging Logan to spars once he had become skilled enough to keep up with her advanced skill.

There was so much about Belle that Logan knew and understood. In some aspects, Logan felt as if he knew Belle better than he knew himself. Her pulling away and occasional faraway expression, when they did occur, always felt like a punch to the gut and were a harsh reminder to Logan that, despite all he did know about Belle, there was still a fuck ton he _didn't_ know.

None of it changed or altered the way he felt for her, though. He admired her tenacity and loved her personality. Belle was one of a kind. Logan was typically impatient, but the Wolverine realized he would _have_ to be patient with this matter. He had to be patient with Belle opening up to him and he had to be patient with Belle accepting her feelings. If he was too forward, Logan knew Belle would only pull away harder and faster. He couldn't try to push things along.

It was with all this on his mind, and after some research into his own past that had finally produced results, that Logan decided maybe it was time to get away and try to focus on something else, if only for a short amount of time.

The next week saw Logan packing a small travel bag, loading his bike, and leaving the Xavier Mansion in New York for Alkali Lake, Canada. 

* * *

**A/N:** Hey guys! So, ran into some major writer's block for this chapter. That's why it took longer than I would have liked to get this out. Sorry :(. A lot of introspection in this chapter, which made it kinda difficult to write in some aspects. I really wanted to get inside Belle's and Logan's heads, though, so hopefully this turned out alright.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Thank you to my readers who have continued to show me and my story support through adding this story to alert lists, following it, and reviewing! Also, on that note, please favorite, review, and follow! I love receiving feedback from you guys :).


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** So, guys, this is going to be a long author's note today, but please bear with me. There's some important things I want to address.

Firstly, I want to apologize for how goddamn long this took. I don't really have much of an excuse. There was school, then Thanksgiving, then finals, and I just really wanted to get this out before Christmas. I had most of of it written before deciding that, hey, it needed to follow better with the scenes from the actual movie, so I looked up the script and rewrote a bunch. I was kind of in a funk, also, while writing this chapter, but I think I'm out of it now and should have my next chapter up within a few weeks. I swear, I'm going to do better with the next update.

Okay, and here's what the bulk of this note is going to be dedicated to. I got a review from a **Jtgil** regarding Logan's abilities, mostly concerning the spar between Logan and Belle in Chapter 1. Some really good and valid points were brought up that I hadn't really considered and, usually where I respond to reviews via message, I wanted to address these concerns here in my author's note where everyone could see just in case anyone else was thinking the same things. I did some research, considered my own martial arts experience, and came up with these responses. So, here we go:

 **1\. Logan's weight because of his adamantium skeletal system affecting Belle's ability to take him down.  
** I googled what the Wolverine's official weight is and, going by the comic books, his initial weight was approximately 195 pounds at 5'2" height. After the adamantium, he weighs in at about 300 pounds. Now, this story is based off the movies, not the comic books. So, considering Hugh Jackman, who plays the Wolverine, is 6'2" and is physically fit with a substantial amount of muscle mass, and muscle weights more than fat, he would weigh in at probably about 190, ironically the same weight as comic book Wolverine. So, assuming the adamatium increases his weight by a third, the weight would still work out to be about 300 pounds.  
Now, here we venture into more speculation and going off of my own experience and ideas. I'm 105 pounds, smaller than Belle who I, in my head, imagine to be at about 120-130 pounds. I am also a hell of a lot less experienced and not nearly as good as I have imagined Belle, also. I have taken down men, in a practice environment, who are over six feet tall and over 200 hundred pounds. Sweeps and takedowns are more about leverage and body positioning than most people think. If you're using brute strength and physical force to execute a takedown (at least in all the styles I have practiced), then you are doing it wrong. Considering all these factors, also assuming Logan is a brawler with pretty much no real martial arts foundation, I very much believe Belle would have the skill to take Logan down. Logan could almost definitely break out of any holds that Belle puts him in once their on the ground, but they are in a practice environment and focusing on improving Logan's form and not his strength, so that's why he doesn't use his superior strength to win.

 **2\. Belle's strikes would, where she hit bone, cause her knuckles to bruise.**  
They're using about medium contact in their spars, so the strikes both perform are never enough to do any real damage. However, this is a valid point and I don't really have much of a counterargument for it. It's not something I came across, either, in my review-prompted research. Because of the force Belle's using, it wouldn't cause any significant harm, but I plan to go back and amend this slightly. Maybe adding in that she flinches after her knee hits his spine and hadn't expected it to hurt quite like that, or mentioning that she notices some minor bruising the next day.

 **3\. Logan has rapid healing and would not be affected by his strikes.**  
Belle hits him in the stomach at one point, forcing the air from his diaphragm. I don't think his healing would affect that specific scenario, since his diaphragm contracts in reaction to the strike but isn't necessarily injured, but I am unsure. As far as the rest of her strikes and Logan's reactions to them, I think it was more from being stunned than actually hurt. It was only a momentary reaction, a knee-jerk reaction to being struck somewhere he didn't expect and when he didn't expect it to happen, speaking more to surprise than actual injury. Like when someone pokes you in between the ribs-it doesn't hurt, but makes you flinch anyway. This, I feel, is more of a gray area, though, so feel free to disagree and voice your argument as to why this wouldn't affect him.

 **4\. Belle gets Logan in a position where she could easily snap his neck. Would his adamantium skeleton allow this?**  
What kills a person with a broken neck is not the fracture of the actual vertebra, but injury to the spinal cord, nerves which are housed and protected by the spinal column. For this reason, I think Logan could have his neck "snapped." Meaning, someone with enough strength and/or leverage could use the same motion as one would use to snap a neck. It would not dislocate or fracture the vertebra, but the motion would damage the spinal cord and impair functioning of the brain. Logan, if his neck was broken, would probably fall over and remain still for a few minutes, appearing dead (like when he got shot in the head in X2), but ultimately get back up later and be totally fine, healed. Logan has super healing and, because of how often he gets injured, a high pain tolerance, but, ultimately, the guy still feels pain. I really don't think he'd want to get his neck broken if he could avoid it. Also, they're in a practice environment (Belle would never _actually_ break his neck, just as Logan would never actually do her real harm in a spar). Belle's focusing on improving his skills, regardless of his mutant abilities, so they're not really playing by the rules of the mutant world and just focusing on improving form and skill.

Overall, in a real life fight, Belle would undoubtedly stand no chance against Logan. If the two were really fighting to the death, Logan would win, hands down. She has superior skill and speed, but Logan has pretty much everyone else and is relatively invincible. I do believe, however, that Belle would last much longer than any normal human would against Logan, and that she would last longer than even most mutants. She would realize her disadvantage and immediately go on the defense, parrying and slipping punches, striking only to vital places like the eyes, jugular, and groin. And, assuming there was even the slightest possibility of escape, I think Belle would be able to get away. I don't think she could beat Logan in a real fight, but I do think she could _live_ through a real fight with him.

 **5\. Belle's disinterest in Logan's mutation.  
** This isn't a concern about ability and realism to the world of X-Men, but it was something else others may be thinking, so I wanted to address it here as well. I can't go into full detail because the way Belle interacts with people has a lot to do with her past (which we have not yet discovered), but I will explain what I can. First off, and most basically, Belle wants to improve all of the X-Men's martial arts abilities. Her task doesn't require a focus on their extra-human abilities. However, it is mentioned at one point that Belle is teaching Logan how to use kali sticks. I didn't say it there because my karate brain immediately made the connection, but I probably should have explained the significance of this training. It has a direct correlation to Logan's claws. She's teaching him kali because he can learn those skills, and then apply them to how he fights with his mutation. Also, Belle's a really closed-off person. She doesn't seem it in day-to-day life but, as Logan and Belle become closer, we'll start seeing more and more how...well, emotionally stunted she is in some aspects. She wants to know Logan on a base level so that she can understand him well enough to be the most effective she can possibly be in teaching him. She wants to have an easy going acquaintanceship with him where there is a mutual respect. Belle doesn't want to be his friend, and she _definitely_ does not want to fall in love with him. As we can see from her inner thoughts, however, it's happened (friendship) and happening (love) already. She wants to pull away, but is finding it much harder to pull away from Logan than it has been to pull away from other people. (Along those lines, I've never mentioned Belle having friends outside of Logan. That's because she doesn't. She doesn't let anyone in, beyond superficially.) Because she doesn't want to get attached to people, she, generally, doesn't care to find out much about people. That's part of the reason why she doesn't care much about Logan's mutation. Lastly, and the point I can elaborate least on, Belle has seen a lot of shit in her twenty-two years. She's been through a lot, seen a lot, and a done a lot. Here's the most I'll give you: she's encountered mutants before. Belle is not as ignorant as most to the strange occurrences in the world.

So, there you have it. My feelings and ideas for 1, 3, and 4 are not concrete, but what I've discovered through research and believe because of my own fighting experience. I will go back to make a few amendments to previous chapters in regards to 2. If you disagree with any of my assessments, feel free to post a review saying so or shoot me a message. Constructive criticism can only help, and I'm open to reconsidering my point of view on any of these matters. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I am not an expert with X-Men. I've never read the comics and, honestly, I've only seen the movies a few times. I've been researching when I've felt it necessary, reading synopses to the movies when necessary, and using transcripts from the movies to supply scenes directly taken from the movie. (On that note, we will partly follow the movies, but Belle's influence will result in events not panning out exactly the same as in the movies.) Thank you again to **Jtgil** to challenging my perspective and making me consider different possibilities. I will definitely incorporate a couple changes following this and hope any other people with similar concerns will feel as if they can bring them up with me. I want this story to be true to the movies, and the abilities of the mutants exhibited and implied within the movies, as possible, so constructive criticism is always welcome.

Sorry for this long as fuck author's note, but without further ado, onto the story:

* * *

She hears about the attempted assassination nearly as soon as the first reports are released to the public. She had left her top floor office, heading towards the exit to meet a client for a lunch conference, only to find that her employees were in a state of almost panic.

A man, who on closer inspection was younger than even her and likely just an intern, tried to scurry past her in a hurry. Belle stuck her arm out, stopping him in his footsteps.

"What the hell is goin' on here?"

He looked at her with wide eyes, which only widened probably with the realization of who she was. Belle decided to ignore his frazzled state in favor of getting the story as to what had turned her employees into something that more resembled the behavior of wild animals.

"You didn't hear?" he finally managed to choke out.

Belle raised her eyebrow at him, her hands finding their way to her hips. "Would I be asking you if I had?"

If this had been any other time, Belle may have found the intern's reaction to be comical. Instead, she found it frustrating.

"The, uh, president, ma'am." God, this was painful. "Someone tried to kill him."

Both eyebrows raised now. Her composure, still, was much better than most in the room. "Excuse me?"

"They say one of those mutants did it," he told her, voice growing stronger as he seemingly grew more confident the longer he talked to her. "He was able to teleport; that's how he got past the secret service. He left a note that said 'MUTANT FREEDOM NOW' embedded to the president's desk with knife."

Not good. She'd have to call Xavier. Belle knew he'd be freaking out, even though the Professor would never allow anyone to see him outwardly doing so. "Shit."

"Yeah."

Belle immediately pulled out her cell phone and called her client. Attempted assassination of the president of the United States was definitely ground for canceling a lunch meeting. Next, she found her VP and told him to inform the employees to take the rest of the day off.

She went back up to her office, grabbed her shit, and left. Belle had to get to the Xavier Institute.

. . .

John was a troublemaker and a showoff, so it was no surprise when he decided to make trouble at the museum. Before the Professor could really reprimand the boy, however, an emergency report flashed onto the wall-mounted television in the cafeteria.

 _MUTANT ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT._

 _"_ _Coming to you live from Washington with reports of an assassination attempt on the president, which took place in the Oval Office less than an hour ago. Details are still sketchy, but we know that the president is alive and uninjured._

"Professor, I think it's time to go," Scott murmured. Ororo couldn't help but agree.

"I think you're right," Professor X responded, unfreezing the crowd. They moved on as if nothing had happened and, to them, Ororo supposed, nothing _had_ happened.

They gathered the students and immediately left for the mansion. Today had not been a good day for a field trip, it would seem.

As soon as they returned, the Professor called for a meeting in the staff room. Scott walked to the window, peering out as some as the younger children played. They didn't really understand what was going on, and Ororo sometimes envied their innocence. "My opinion?" Scott broke the tense silence. "Magneto's behind this."

Ororo contemplated the idea momentarily, but ultimately didn't think Scott was right. Magneto was too smart to make such a reckless move. Jean rebutted her boyfriend's statement. "No, I don't think so, Scott."

"While Eric might have organized something like this from prison, for him the gesture is far too…irrational. It only hurts his goal of mutant prosperity." Ororo nodded. The Professor's logic was sound.

Scott scoffed. "You mean superiority."

The Professor looked somewhat regretful. He and Magneto had been friends at one point, after all. "You're right, if Eric had his way."

"You know how the government will respond to this." Why couldn't things ever be simple? "They'll reintroduce the Registration Act."

"Or worse."

Jean fidgeted, her hands fluttering nervously about. "Do you think the assassin was working alone?"

Professor X didn't necessarily answer the question, but responded with: "The only way we'll find him is if we find him before the authorities do." The Professor rubbed his temples, pausing to think over what he said next. A knock sounded at the door to the staff room then. "Let Belle in, will you, Ororo?"

Ororo nodded and opened the door she was standing next to. Belle stepped through and removed her jacket, dropping her things to the ground unceremoniously. It was strange, Ororo thought, to see the blonde looking so professional and severe in a business suit. It was sometimes easy to forget that Belle was really Belle Rickards, CEO to a multimillion dollar organization.

"It's a stupid question to ask if you guys heard, but I don't know how else to start the conversation, so."

At least the younger woman brought some levity to the otherwise morose situation.

"Yes. We heard." Scott sounded as if he wanted to drown himself.

"This will have severe repercussions for the mutant society. The attack will do the opposite of its intended purpose," Jean sulked. They were all miserable.

Belle, who had previously been scuffing her shoe at the ground, looked up sharply. Her gaze landed on the Professor, stern and unwavering. As if he had sensed her thoughts, which he probably had, Professor X moved his eyes to her and stared back equally as intent. He cocked his head to the side in question, and Belle simply nodded.

Ororo didn't know what had occurred in their silent conversation, and apparently wouldn't any time soon as the Professor dismissed everyone, excluding Belle, from his office.

. . .

Nothing had been there. Something should have been there, but it wasn't. The base was abandoned. Logan, after nearly three days of travel to Canada and a couple days of searching the area surrounding Alkali Lake, had to throw in the towel. He wasn't going to learn anything from this trip.

He didn't hear about the attack on the president until he stopped at a shitty motel for the night in North Dakota. Logan grinded his teeth as he checked in, listening to the background noise of the news detailing the attempted assassination.

Apparently, he had chosen a good time to head back.

He could make it back to New York in just over a day if he traveled without stopping for the night, so that's what Logan did.

Logan got back to the Xavier Institute mid-afternoon on Saturday, his (or, really, Scott's) motorcycle thundering up the path to the mansion. Walking into the school, he was only slightly surprised to see Rogue running at him.

"Logan!"

He smirked at the girl, who he had formed a soft spot for. "Miss me, kid?"

She smiled cheekily in return. "Not really." But, her actions spoke otherwise, and the girl threw her arms around him. When he looked up, he noticed a boy walking towards them. He recognized the other kid, of course. He'd been hanging around Rogue a lot recently. Still, he hadn't bothered to actually find out who the kid was.

Until now. "Who's this?"

Rogue beamed. "This is Bobby, he's—"

"Her boyfriend."

Oh, great. The kid was going to try to be all macho. They shook hands, and ice crackling in Bobby's grip as vapor rose. Rogue rolled her eyes, and Logan couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. "They call me the Iceman."

 _What a shmuck._ "Right…boyfriend." There was an awkward pause as Logan considered whether he should ask the question. Finally, he decided _what the hell_. "How do you guys…?"

Bobby, or _Iceman_ (really?), blurted, "We're working on it."

"So, where's the Professor?"

Just then, Ororo turned the corner. _Oh shit,_ he thought at seeing the look in her eyes. And oh shit had been right. Logan was on babysitter duty.

He wasn't really that upset, though. Maybe he'd even ask Belle to stick around so he wasn't alone with the brats.

Ororo kissed him on the cheek in thanks, and as she pulled away, Logan saw Jean walking down the stairs and towards them. He smiled warmly at her, but the twisting in his stomach he used to feel in her presence wasn't there. That sensation, now, was designated for a different woman.

"It's good to have you home," Jean grinned.

He nodded at her, a smile tugging at his lips. "It's good to be home."

Not much later, he found himself in Cerebro with the Professor. His awe at what the Professor could do with Cerebro quickly faded to anger as the telepath refused to look inside his head again, saying it was risky and that the mind, sometimes, needed to discover things on its own. Logan thought he had waited long enough—he wanted to know what the hell had happened to him during his missing years.

. . .

Belle was at the park, jogging in the cool fall air, when she got the call from Xavier saying she didn't have to watch the students tonight, that Logan was back and would do it. She acquiesced and hung up the phone, distantly wondering if she could come up with an excuse, now, to go to the school to see Logan. He had, collectively, only been gone for about a week. Still, she had missed him, even if she was begrudged to admit it.

She was just getting to her parked car, sweat soaking through her shirt, when she got the call from Logan asking to come by the school that night and be his partner-in-crime for _sitting the brats_ , as he had phrased it. Belle smiled, said she would, and then forced herself to stop smiling because, really, why the fuck was she so giddy. Really, she needed to get a better handle on her emotions. He had been gone a goddamn week.

When she arrived back home, Belle jumped in the shower and packed a small overnight bag before heading to the Xavier Institute at six. She stopped to grab some dinner for her and Logan. Even if he had already eaten, that man was always hungry.

The doors weren't locked until nine every night, so Belle waltzed right into the mansion. She assumed he'd be in the lounge, and found that she was right.

Belle knew that, because of his enhanced hearing and sense of smell, Logan knew she was there, but he didn't acknowledge her. Maybe some would find that strange, but Belle didn't. Because of her training, she usually picked up whenever someone entered the room, too, but Belle would often pretend not to notice. It was about keeping up an air of normalcy, not intimidating people by glaring at them the second they entered a room.

She walked over to the couch he was sitting on, watching some action movie, and dropped the food on the table by his feet. He looked up then. "Hey, stranger."

"Hey." He smirked at her, then his eyes scanned her figure, his gaze softening. "You look good."

Her smile slipped a little, but she didn't think he noticed. She joked, "I always look good."

Playfully flirting with Logan was one thing. She was good at that. Teasing. She could do teasing. But, whenever he got more serious, it was like a bucket of ice water over her head and dread would coil in her stomach. It _couldn't_ happen. And he deserved better. So, she would play it off, feeling worse and worse every time she did it. Belle knew that, soon, this would all come to a head. And she wasn't sure if she would make the right decision, to leave it alone and not take it any further, when it came down to it.

Logan's grin only widened. "You do."

She decided not to reply. What the hell could she say to that? She had counteracted his genuine statement with a playful comment that she assumed would lead to their typical banter. But, it hadn't worked. That method of hers was working less and less lately, it seemed.

"I brought food." Logan nodded his thanks and reached forward, looking through what she had brought. Belle stared at him for a moment, noticing the slight annoyance that lingered beneath his expression. "How was your impromptu trip?"

"Not successful."

This was another thing Belle was shit at—comforting people. She never knew what to say in these situations. Still, Belle knew Logan wasn't great with words either, and that he'd probably read her true intentions in her gaze. "Sucks."

Logan looked up at her then and, like she had suspected, stared into her eyes, deciphering what she couldn't quite say. After a loaded moment, he shrugged. "I'll figure it out, someday."

"You will."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you to everyone for reading! Also thanks for any new reviews, follows, and favorites. I appreciate any feedback and feel free to post it. I want to know what you guys think! Also, hope everyone enjoys their holidays!


	7. Chapter 7

_Soldiers leading him in. Marks on his skin. Doctors scurrying about, talking about him. He's inside of a tank, a tank full of water. Then, everyone's running and he's screaming._

He awoke from his nightmare— _or memory?_ —sweating and disoriented. He couldn't stay in his room, he decided. Logan, after getting his bearings, dressed himself and walked out of his room.

He wasn't expecting to find Belle sitting on the floor, against the wall, beside the door to his bedroom. She was already looking at him when he noticed her.

"What are you doing?" Logan asked, but his voice didn't contain his usual bite. It cracked slightly, betraying his agitation.

Belle's eyes roamed over his body in a way that made him uncomfortable. It wasn't sexual; it was assessing. Logan had a feeling, then, that whatever lies he came up with, she would see through it.

"I heard you," the blonde finally answered. At the clenching of his jaw, she continued, "You weren't loud. But I was staying in Ro's room, beside yours, and I'm a light sleeper."

He drew his own conclusion from that. She wasn't just a light sleeper. It was, Logan bet, a part of the training she had received—to always be on guard.

Logan didn't respond to her right away. He did, however, reach out his hand in a silent offer to help the woman to her feet. She hesitated, always reluctant to accept help from another human being, but only for a moment before grabbing his hand and allowing him to haul her to her feet. He held on for a second longer than what was strictly necessary.

Belle drew her bottom lip in between her teeth. It was a nervous habit, Logan had realized, one she only seemed to do around him. He wondered, briefly, if she allowed herself to exhibit the tick in his presence because she was comfortable around him. He didn't know, though. Belle was, often, difficult to read.

"If you wanted to talk about them…your nightmares, I'll listen." Logan stiffened. Belle's eyes hardened and she set her jaw. Logan knew, then, that Belle was about to open up. "I get them, too." She paused. "Sometimes."

His muscles relaxed. Something about Belle admitting that to him made him feel less embarrassed of his nightmare.

He wasn't very good at expressing gratitude, though, but Logan tried his best to imbue that sentiment in his gaze. "I'll let you know if I do."

She smiled softly at him, and he knew she understood. "Alright."

Logan's been told before that he's difficult to read. Not as difficult as Belle, Logan thought, but still difficult. Belle always seemed to be able to read him, though. She returned to her temporary room—Ororo's room—and allowed Logan the time he needed to be alone and think. He wandered the mansion for a long time.

Once his mind was settled, Logan decided to follow the sound of a television. A boy, wearing large glasses, was sitting on the couch and using the rapid movement of his eyes blinking to change the channels to the television. Logan sat in an armchair and watched the boy, chuckling to himself when he realized what the kid was doing.

"Can't sleep?" the boy, who Logan remembered was named Jones, asked.

He looked at the kid, a wry expression on his face. "How can you tell?"

The kid, though, didn't miss a beat. "'Cause you're awake."

Logan raised his eyebrows at the kid. "Right. How about you?"

"I don't sleep."

"Right." _Weird._ "Doesn't anybody sleep around here?"

"Apparently not."

 _I need a beer._ Logan left for the kitchen in search. He was, unfortunately, reminded that this was a school, however, and had to settle for a can of soda. Bobby, the kid hanging around Rogue, was there in the kitchen. Logan, wordlessly, passed off the soda and the kid cooled it down for him.

"Handy," Logan muttered.

. . .

It was luck that Belle had her window open when they landed. It was the result of years of intense training that made her realize something was wrong, allowed for her ears to pick up the sounds that didn't belong. She surveyed the room, her gaze catching movement out the window. She quickly made her way over and saw something that made her stomach plummet.

There were several helicopters, landing silently and men in military wear dropping to the ground.

Belle wanted to go to Logan, to warn him. She knew that was irrational and thoughtless, though. He had heightened senses and, if he hadn't already noticed the threat, he would very soon. Also, Logan could very much handle himself.

No, she needed to get to the students. She needed to evacuate as many of them as she could.

Belle spared only a minute to arm herself. She always had a knife on her. When she was sleeping, it was one on her body, one under her pillow, and one by her bedside. When she was awake, Belle made sure to be armed with at least five concealed knives at all times.

They were going to war, though. She took out her bag of weapons, the one that was always in her car or in the same place as she was. It had been over a decade since the last time she used them, but Belle removed her more wicked knives and added them to the five knives already concealed on her body. She now had twelve. Belle grabbed a belt from the bag, one situated with over a dozen throwing knives, and slung it around her hips. A compound bow was next, arrows loaded into a quiver attached to the bow, slung onto one arm like how one would hold a long-strapped purse. Lastly, she took out a small gun and tucked it into the waistband of her pants.

Belle didn't like guns for many reasons: they were loud, called unneeded attention to herself, bullets could be traced, and they—although very deadly and easier to use—were a hell of a lot less intimidating than blades. Those were all very inconvenient consequences that, in her previous line of work, led Belle to mislike guns.

Still, she took the gun. They were outnumbered and she needed to protect the kids. She would only use the weapon if it proved to be absolutely necessary.

Another flashback to the past as Belle pulled out thin, leather soled shoes. They allowed for her to move silently and climb better. She had them made for herself just a few years ago. They were just like the ones she used to use. Belle had, though, hoped never to don them again.

Hope was a feeble thing for the weak.

She would never leave danger behind, it would seem.

How could she, when her very soul reeked of death and blood?

It was only a short moment later when Belle left her room. There were only teachers' rooms on this given floor, and since they were all away and Logan had never returned to his room, she took to the stairs. Stairs would be too slow and too loud. She perched on the banister and slid down, silently landing on the floor below.

None of the soldiers had, at the very least, entered the floor below the teachers'. She made her way quickly to each room, silently entering and leaving only a moment later.

Once inside each room, she woke up one student. Her spiel was the same in each room: _Be silent. We're under attack. Wake up the other students in this room and leave quickly and silently. Use the secret passages_ —she knew Xavier gave a map of the passages throughout the school to each of the students, in case of this very situation, and that Ro had gone over emergency protocols— _and get out, to the forest._

A couple of the students—older, braver, and more skilled—joined Belle in her mission to evacuate the students. Colossus, Rogue, and Kitty Pryde. She recognized Colossus from her danger room sessions with Logan and his students, and Kitty and Rogue from her finance class.

Belle and her accomplices had woken up an entire floor and she, now alone, was just entering the floor below when she came across soldiers. She was better than that, though, and they hadn't seen her yet.

They had split into pairs, which only made it easier for Belle to take them out. She was able to disable just over ten of the military men before a screech that sounded throughout the entire mansion and sounded from somewhere behind Belle caused the men to look in her direction and spot her.

. . .

The kid, Bobby, wasn't so bad, Logan realized. "It's just that it's not easy—when you want to be closer to someone, but…you can't be."

Logan could relate to that sentiment. He had more experience with it than he would have liked. First, with Jean, who was in a serious relationship. Now, with Belle, who was closed off and emotionally unavailable, for whatever reason.

Yeah, he could definitely relate to how the kid felt.

"You know, I've seen the way you look at Belle."

The bulky man raised his gaze and looked sharply at Bobby. "Excuse me?"

Bobby suddenly seemed a lot less comfortable with the turn in conversation. "Nothing."

It was then that Logan heard the noises coming from the hallway. The kid noticed them only a moment later, and they exchanged a meaningful look. Logan, immediately taking charge and plotting their next move, motioned for the kid to be quiet.

Bobby sat on the couch and Logan hid himself away in the room. When a soldier, not much later, tried to sneak up on Bobby, Logan went on the offensive and put the soldier into a chokehold. "You picked the wrong house, Bub," he growled.

Suddenly, an ear piercing shriek shook the whole house and the sound of glass shattering could be heard. Logan looked up to the ceiling, following the source of the sound, and his moment of inattention allowed for the soldier to wrench himself from Logan's grip and aim his rifle. Bobby threw himself across the floor and dove behind the counter, distracting the soldier enough for Logan to wrestle away the gun.

A knife was pulled out next and the solider lunged at Logan, but Logan grabbed his wrist and tried to push the knife away from its intended target of Logan's face. It wasn't enough, though, and the knife slashed his cheek. With a fury, Logan unleashed his claws.

Logan smirked when he was easily able to gain the upper hand. He recognized, then, that Belle's teaching him kali may have been intentional.

Bobby appeared from behind the counter when the fight was over, ending with the soldier pinned to the refrigerator by Logan's adamantium claws.

They rushed into the chaos of the hallway. Logan was quick to hide Bobby away and, with his rage fueling him on, Logan joined in another fight to protect the kids and his fellow mutants.

. . .

The soldiers hesitated when the scream sounded, when they laid eyes on Belle standing in the middle of the hallway, down a ways, with no cover. It was a mistake, and a fatal one at that.

Before the soldiers were able to regain their composure, Belle had already nocked an arrow and let it loose.

They had guns, but they in no way had the advantage.

Belle was quick to approach, knowing that close quarter combat would fair best for her in this situation. If she was close, she could more easily confuse the men and cancel out the effectiveness of their guns.

A stray bullet skimmed her as she approached, but the blonde didn't slow. She loosed a second arrow, taking out another soldier. Only four left, now. She was, before most of the soldiers had a chance to react, upon them.

The bow wasn't nearly as effective in close quarters combat. She dropped it and, instead, took out a pair of knives. They had been her favorites, years ago.

The man closest to her aimed his gun. She danced around it, slicing a tendon in his arm as she did so. He dropped the gun and his arm hung useless by his side. Belle drove the heel of her foot into the side of his knee. An audible crack sounded and the soldier dropped to the floor.

When she turned, the man furthest from her had his gun aimed at her head, his finger hovering on the trigger, about to pull it. Belle wasted no time in dropping the knife in her right hand, drawing a throwing knife from her belt, and throwing it into the man's eye. He fell lifeless to the floor.

Another gun had been aimed at the back of her head, the trigger pulled, but Belle had already moved and the bullet whizzed by her head, not touching her. She dropped to the ground, just in time to avoid another bullet from a different gun, and picked up the blade she had dropped just seconds earlier. She drove it into the stomach of the soldier closest to her, the one who had fired at the back of her head, and quickly drew her knife sideways, leaving him disemboweled and moments from death.

Belle turned towards the last standing soldier, who was bravely still pointing his gun at her, but now visibly shaking. He shot at her, but he was shaking too much, and the shot went wide. Before he could squeeze the trigger again, Belle had slit his throat.

The soldier who she had not killed, the one with a limp arm and shattered kneecap, was crawling towards his gun, which had slid across the floor when he dropped it. His neck was snapped before he could reach it.

Belle didn't have time to retrieve her throwing knives, but that was alright. She had several more in her belt. She scooped up her bow and took aim at more quickly approaching soldiers, taking them out before they had the chance to take her out.

. . .

Logan has just disposed of more soldiers when he came to the balcony overlooking the main floor. Below stood Rogue, Bobby, and John, surrounded by four armed soldiers. Logan didn't hesitate to jump from the balcony. He unsheathed his claws and cut his way through the troops. Once the job was done, Logan looked back to the kids.

"Let's go!"

They ran through the hallways, pushing even faster with the sound of the nearing troops. Rogue was quick to find the entrance to the secret passage way and swiftly opened it.

Logan stopped. "Keep going," he told the kids when they hesitated.

Rogue kept her eyes on him, seemingly pleading. "Logan…" He stared back at the girl, his eyes animalistic. Rogue finally nodded and continued on.

Once the students were out of his sight, Logan turned back the coming troops and unsheathed his claws. Smoke and debris still clouded the hallways from previous fighting and explosions. As the troops got closer, green beams shone through and appeared all over Logan's body.

"YOU WANNA SHOOT ME? SHOOT ME!"

The Wolverine moved forward, claws out and teeth bared, when a different voice cut through the tension.

"Don't shoot him!" The voice niggled at Logan's subconscious, causing him to freeze where he stood. The man who belonged to the voice stepped forward. "Not yet.

"Wolverine. How long has it been? Fifteen years? And you haven't changed a bit. Me, on the other hand," Logan could now see the man, "…Nature."

Something flickered behind Logan's eyes—a memory, maybe. Suddenly, Logan's claws retracted into his skin without his permission.

"I must admit, this is the last place I thought I'd ever see you, Wolverine." The man continued to move closer to Logan. "I didn't realize Xavier was taking in animals, even animals as…unique as you."

Logan's eyes hardened as he glared at the man slowly advancing towards him, who had been able to, somehow, force Logan to put his claws away. "Who are you?"

The man's eyes and tone were still malevolent as he answered, "Don't you remember me?"

Before anything else could transpire, a cold mist formed throughout the room. A wall of ice stood between him and the man he had been speaking to.

Logan jolted to attention and he spotted Bobby, his hand on the ice wall. Rogue emerged from the passageway and gazed up at him. Her eyes begged him to join them. "Logan, come on."

He grew further agitated. "Go, I'll be fine."

"But we won't. Please."

He couldn't say no; those kids needed him.

. . .

Belle was making her way through the hallways, which were a lot clearer now that her and many of the resident mutants had taken care of a lot of the soldiers. She moved calmly, her leather clad feet not making a sound against the hard floors.

It wasn't until she heard Logan's enraged screaming that she picked up the pace.

"YOU WANNA SHOOT ME? SHOOT ME!"

She rushed through the hallways. Belle knew that he was a floor below her, from the sound of it. She would, in order to help him, need a long range weapon. Belle sheathed her knives and nocked her bow.

An explosion sounded through the mansion. Belle must have been right above it, because it rocked the floor and nearly knocked her off her feet.

She was about to move forward with a new panic to her steps when she heard the click-clack of approaching feet.

Belle turned just in time to dodge what looked to be incredibly long and sharp fingernails.

She sidestepped the attack, gaining enough ground to take a second to assess her opponent.

It was a woman, slender but taller than Belle was and of Asian descent. She was dressed in all leather, fingernails extended far beyond what was normal and metallic. Adamantium. A mutant, one fighting for the other side. And wasn't that just wrong? It was like when other women fought against the suffragists back in the early twentieth century. Her irises were almost whited out, a pale blue that heavily contrasted with her skin and hair color. It wasn't right. Belle immediately recognized it as the side effect of a mind controlling agent. She had encountered it before.

 _Fuck._ She had to get out of there. Belle could assume from what this woman had already exhibited that her entire skeleton was adamantium, meaning she would have increased strength and endurance from having to carry around all that extra weight and a nearly unbreakable body. The woman also likely had a healing factor, like Logan.

Belle went on the defensive, choosing to parry and slip the blows instead of blocking them or taking them head on. She used the hard side of her bow to deflect the incoming strikes. It was the best way to avoid damage to her own body. Belle would only strike to soft parts of the body: eyes, throat, stomach. Striking full force to adamantium skeleton would do more damage to her than it would to the woman she was engaged with. It was difficult to do, though, while trying to avoid damage to herself. Generally, the further away Belle could get, the less likelihood of her getting skewered by two-fucking-foot long fingernails.

Belle backed through an open doorway. She had to get away, and quick. She was already injured and knew she couldn't win against this woman with her adamantium exoskeleton and possible super-healing.

When she saw her chance, she didn't hesitate. The mutant advanced further, probably thinking she was about to win as she backed Belle into a corner. But Belle had allowed herself to be backed into the corner, because what looked like a dead end to the mutant woman was an escape for Belle.

She didn't hesitate to throw herself through the already open window of the second floor bedroom.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello everyone! An extra long chapter this time around full of action. I hope it was understandable. Please let me know if any of the fight scenes were confusing at any point of time. This is the first time I've written a combat scene where it's not one-on-one, but rather one versus many. I start my intersession course tomorrow (it lasts two weeks), so I may take longer than just two weeks to get the next chapter up.

Thank you everyone for reading and continuing to support my story! Thank you to those who added this to your follows and favorites. (I can't, unfortunately, thank anyone for reviewing. No one reviewed last chapter. Which is sad. You guys are lucky I'm not a Tamagotchi, or I'd probably be dead from that. You guys should revive me with some reviews. Just saying.)

Also, happy New Year!


	8. Chapter 8

She tucked into a roll as she hit the ground, minimizing the impact. Belle didn't hesitate in getting to her feet and looking to the window she had just jumped from.

Her attacker was gone. Belle was not certain whether the mind-controlled mutant decided she wasn't worth the effort, or if she would give chase. Either way, Belle wasn't about to stick around to find out.

She scanned her surroundings, cussing under her breath momentarily as she noticed the state of her bow—broken from the fall. Oh well. She still had several knives—included about ten throwing knives—and a gun (if all else failed).

Belle darted through the yard, rounding a corner and then ducking behind a stone wall, facing the courtyard. There, she could see soldiers loading up some of the students. She counted six, all young children. They were gagged, blindfolded, and bound at the wrists.

There were three options available to her: one, she could go into the woods and find the students who had escaped; two, she could search the area for stragglers and help any leftover students get away uncaught; or three, she could stowaway in one of the helicopters, following the captured students and help them escape from wherever they would be taken next.

There were options, but, really, there was no decision to be made. The escaped students were at the least risk, and there were older students who could take charge of the situation. Likely, all the students who would be captured had already been captured, and any students who would escape had already done so. This was a large military force; she doubted any mutant left within the confines of the mansion had not been found already.

Her mind made up, Belle waited for her opportunity. When the soldiers responsible for loading up the students walked away, she sprinted across the courtyard, ever silent, and hopped into the back of the helicopter. There were a few bins, big enough to conceal her body—it would be uncomfortably tight, but doable—so she opened one, glad to find it nearly empty, and closed herself in.

Belle, as a child, had a fear of enclosed spaces. Claustrophobia. Not anymore, though. Fears such as those were a disadvantage in a battle. The man who had taught her everything was sure to break her of that fear.

And, like everything else, he eventually broke _her_. But she picked up the pieces, one by one, and put herself back together. She couldn't go on living that way—like a shell of a person. No emotion, no attachment. No hesitation.

Forcing herself away from not-so-fond memories, Belle inventoried her injuries in the dark safety of the medium-sized box. Three grazing wounds from gunshots—minimal damage. A gunshot wound through the meat of her right thigh. It wasn't deadly, a through-and-through, but hurt like a bitch. "Just a flesh wound." A few slashes from a knife; one across her right forearm, another going up her back and over her shoulder blade, and a third sliced across her left cheek.

Yay, more scars to add to her collection.

Waiting inside of the dark container, shadowed in silence with only the occasional strangled cry to break the monotony, was the hard part. It was the time when a person stopped moving, finally slowed down, that doubt began to set in. There isn't time to think when a person is moving, acting. There is _too much_ time to think when the action ceases.

Belle was used to high risk missions, though—or, at least, she had been. And it was like riding a bike, really.

Belle had lost a good amount of blood, and treated her wounds to the best of her ability with her limited resources and lack of light. Belle's mind focused on the task and, even when it was done, she kept her mind clinical. She couldn't worry about the six children who were being held captive, or the ones who had escaped and were now on their own, or Logan. (Really, she had no idea what had happened to him. At the very least, Belle knew the Wolverine hadn't been caught.) She needed to stay focused on the mission, keep a clear mind uninfluenced by the circumstances. Everything else could wait.

It was several hours later when the helicopter finally landed. The sound of the blades whirring died down, and men began to emerge, shouting and stomping around. Soon, Belle knew, the hatch to her helicopter would be opened and the men would unload the children.

She didn't have to wait long. Just ten minutes later, she could, once again, hear crying. The children had been roused from their exhausted states. Belle knew, though, that she couldn't follow right away. She would wait for the sounds of children and soldiers to die down before she even considered leaving her box.

Forty-three minutes later, the outside world went quiet.

Fifteen minutes after that, Belle ventured outside of her box.

After three minutes of, with her ear pressed against the wall of the helicopter, hearing nothing, she peeked outside.

. . .

"Stryker's at Alkali Lake."

 _Damn._ He had _been_ at Alkali Lake. If that's where Stryker was, where this whole damn military operation was taking place, _how had he not noticed?_

Because it was under the fucking ground. Of course.

And then, later that same night, Jean told him that the X-Jet was bad off. Great. And then she was saying she was worried about Scott, and he spit out, "I'm worried about you."

And he was. Worried about Jean. That power she had exhibited in the jet, when they were under attack, had been unlike anything he had ever seen. Jean's eyes had glowed _red._

The power Jean had used was the type of power a person could get lost in. It was the type of power that began to control you, instead of you controlling it.

Then, Jean was telling him about how she was meant for Scott, that he was a good guy. And she was telling him that he was "the bad boy," and girls didn't end up with the bad boy. And Logan was having a little trouble following, because where the absolute fuck was this coming from?

Jean thought he still wanted her, he realized.

Well, awkward.

Logan blew the air out from his nose in a huff. "Jean… I'm worried about you because of what you did back there. I'm worried about you, as a friend. I…know you're with Scott. I'm over it."

She peered at him from under her hair, her scrutiny obvious. Her tone was disbelieving when she spoke. "Really?"

He nodded resolutely. "Really."

Logan left it at that, turning away from Jean—the woman he formerly thought himself in love with—and walked away.

The blue chick, Mystique, was watching from the woods, he noticed as he walked away from Jean. _Creep._

. . .

Another minute of no movement. Belle, then, crept out into the pitch black of night and stealthily made her way to the large underground military complex.

Most people would have found it difficult to break into such a large, hidden, and highly secured military complex. Not Belle, though. After all, she had been trained by the best—only to, later on, _become_ the best.

Belle was careful to avoid both cameras and guards. A run-in with either would expose her and risk the entire mission. More than once, Belle found herself ducking into supply closets, or pulling herself up into the ventilation shafts to avoid patrolling soldiers.

Yes, she could have taken them out easily, but the objective here was stealth. The longer she went unnoticed, the better.

The ventilation shafts also provided an easy way to navigate the building in the areas with heavier surveillance. It was, while crawling through the shafts, that she overheard a conversation between a few soldiers. That was how she found out the location at which Xavier's students were being held.

The blonde took a moment to consider the situation. She could continue to use the shafts, dropping down into the room with the children. This would avoid an initial confrontation with those tasked with guarding the door. She could then help the children into the shafts. However, the risk of losing control of the children, of them getting scared and risking their escape, was very high.

Shit. There was probably a security feed watching the inside of the room, too.

To the control room, then.

The Batman theme and his spinning logo that played in the '60s Adam West television series whenever he went to save the day briefly came to Belle's mind. _I should have one of those._ It would be badass.

Of course, Belle didn't really have a cool codename like Batman. Or Wolverine, or Storm, or Cyclops.

The name she had gone by almost a decade ago was neither heroic, nor cool. No, that name brought fear into the hearts of anyone who knew better. She wasn't a hero; not like Logan or Jean or Professor X.

Also, a name like the "Red Death" probably wouldn't have an awesome theme or symbol. It would probably be something menacing and dark, with a foreboding atmosphere that inspired hatred—like the Imperial March from Star Wars, with some sort of gory symbol.

Heroes, good people, got the praise and the thanks and the things dedicated to them.

Belle definitely didn't deserve that.

Finding the control room was easy. Getting past unseen by the ten or so techies inside said control room, however, wouldn't be quite as easy.

. . .

It was late, probably, past midnight, when Logan awoke to the sound of someone approaching his tent. He sat up as a figure unzipped the door, prepared to go on the offensive. That proved to be unnecessary, however. The red head of hair that popped through the tent first told him, immediately, that the intruder was Jean.

Logan sat up and, before he could say anything, Jean was coming at him.

Just a year ago, Logan would have invited, and reciprocated, her advance. Not now, though. As was true a year ago, Jean had Scott, but now Logan had Belle, too. (Well, he didn't really _have_ Belle. She was reticent as all fuck. But, regardless, she was now, in his mind, the woman for him.)

He stopped Jean as she moved her lips towards his, his palm on her collarbone and holding her back gently.

He stared into her eyes, trying to read them. Why was she doing this? Jean was with Scott. She loved Scott. She admitted to it earlier. Jean had basically told him that she was attracted to Logan, but in love with Scott.

And, now, that was alright. Logan didn't want Jean like that anymore. He had been telling the truth when he told her that he had moved on.

So why was Jean coming to him, in the dark of night, entering his tent and trying to kiss him?

It didn't make sense.

"What are you doing?"

She smiled sexily at him, but didn't respond verbally. Jean went to move her head forward again. Logan's arm straightened, as he pushed her further away.

This wasn't right.

And then it clicked.

"You're not Jean."

And Jean's appearance flickered away, looking like scales overturning themselves, as the blue of Mystique's skin and the orange of her hair made itself known.

What the actual fuck.

She moved closer again, but her aim was different. The mutant woman wasn't trying to kiss him anymore, but rather get up close and personal for a different reason. It was an intimidation tactic and, because Logan wasn't about to let her think he was intimidated, he let her get close.

"What do you want?" he growled at the shape-shifting mutant.

"You know what I want," was her answer. As if that was any answer at all. "What do you want?"

And then, all of a sudden, Logan was looking at Storm. When that got no response from him, Mystique shifted to Rogue. (Even though she was a goddamn _kid_.)

Back to Storm, then Rogue again, and finally Jean. He was not about to put up with this bullshit.

That bitch needed to get the fuck out of his tent _right now_.

So he pushed her away, and the creep finally got the message that he was in no way interested in her and that, also, he wasn't about to let her get under his skin.

. . .

Belle waited for the switch of shift in the control room—which took another four hours—to make her move. Belle spotted a woman (her name was Megan) who was about her height, but just slightly larger in physique. Belle quickly moved into action, grabbing Megan without any of the other techs noticing. She put the woman into a chokehold, one arm around her neck and her other hand covering Megan's mouth. Once they were safely in an empty room, and Megan was unconscious, Belle stripped the woman of her clothing.

There was a standard IT uniform that all of the workers seemed to wear. Belle pulled the uniform over her own clothing. Megan's outfit fit over her own clothing perfectly.

The smartest decision would have been for Belle to take all of Megan's clothing to disguise herself. However, she could not bare to part with her leather-soled shoes. She figured, anyway, that most everyone would overlook her footwear.

With the slight disorganization caused by the switching of shifts, Belle was easily able to blend in and seek out the computer station with the label _Megan_ _Travon_.

The man beside her did a double take. She, obviously, was not his normal neighbor. She pretended not to notice his scrutiny.

"Who are you?" he finally asked when he realized that Belle 'did not notice' his stare.

Belle pretended to startle. "Oh! Hi, I'm Rachel." She stuck out her hand.

The tech's eyebrows creased, but he responded in kind, as was expected by societal norms. "Hi. I'm Richard," he said while shaking her hand.

"I'm just filling in for Megan for the day," Belle answered Richard's silent inquiry. "She has that nasty stomach bug that's been going around lately… It's comin' out both ends, too. Real messy." She forced a dramatic sigh. "I hate to work a Friday, but she needed someone to cover her shift and I'm a bit of a pushover, I guess." Image projected—just another disgruntled government employee.

Richard made a face. She had gone into more detail than was socially accepted. Richard, now, would not want to speak with her on the matter any further, fearing more graphic details.

Just as was suspected, Richard nodded quickly and turned back to his work. Belle had to hold back her snort of derision when the man whipped out some sanitizing spray and started cleaning his entire station.

Nobody else bothered her and, not even twenty minutes later, Belle had the room holding the children and the hallway just outside of it playing on a loop. She excused herself to use the bathroom—which Richard promptly ignored—and stripped out of the IT uniform in the room back with Megan's unconscious body. She, then, slipped back into the ventilation shafts.

The two soldiers posted outside the door to the holding room weren't paying attention, instead chatting lightly and ignoring their surroundings. The two men never stood a chance.

Belle grabbed a throwing knife from her belt, tossing it with precision towards the guard on the left. It embedded itself into the front of his neck. The man's dying scream gurgled in his throat as he choked on his own blood.

She was moving towards the guard on the right before he even comprehended what had happened. He went to reach for his walkie-talkie (A dumb move. His best bet of survival would have been to go for his gun. Obviously, though, these guys weren't expecting an attack, especially not one to come so silently and suddenly.), but never reached it. Belle lifted her left foot, smashing it into his hand. The crunch of the small bones in the guard's hand was audible. Before he had time to react or scream, Belle's left hand slapped over his mouth (he bit down, and she felt blood drip between her fingers and run down her hand, but she didn't flinch) and dug one of her more wicked knives out from the holster at her hip, then jamming it up to the hilt through the left ventricle of his heart. The light quickly faded from his eyes, as his body slumped against hers. She was braced for the weight, however, and her footing did not shift.

She left the bodies where they were, in all their mangled glory. This needed to be quick, and she did not have time to dispose of the bodies or wipe the scene of blood. Belle knew that, with the guards now taken out, she was on the clock.

The lock that held the holding room door closed was an old-fashioned, large padlock. Luckily, Belle had been wearing her hair up in a more complicated 'do that day, so she was able to use her bobby pins to pick the lock.

Approximately seventeen seconds later, the padlock snapped open.

The children were all huddled inside, scared and exhausted. When Belle stepped into the room, she made sure to do so with enough noise to notify the children of her presence. They startled, looking up to her with fear in their eyes.

But, then, they all seemed to recognize her at the same time.

"C'mon," she said, waving her hand for them to follow. She didn't approach, though. Belle knew that her intrusion into their personal space may seem like an attack. "I'm getting you out of here."

They get up quickly, then, and all followed behind her like baby ducks follow their mother duck.

They made it down two hallways before the alarms started blaring.

. . .

Stryker didn't fall for it. He _knows his own creation_ , Stryker said, and proceeded to lift his gun towards the Wolverine lookalike.

Their failure to trick the military man didn't matter, though. Mystique quickly disabled the guards and was unscathed by the encounter. Her distraction was enough to get the rest of the group inside.

"She's good," Logan said to Magneto.

Magneto smiled smugly. "You have no idea."

That rubbed Logan the wrong way. So, he countered with, "I know someone better."

The man who could manipulate metal gave Logan an incredulous look, raising his eyebrow. "I doubt it."

. . .

"Shit!" Belle muttered under her breath, making sure that none of the students heard her. They were scared enough as it was, and didn't need her adding to it. She looked back to them, waving her hand a little more forcefully as she picked up the pace. "Quickly."

Their pace was slower than she would have liked, and they were much louder, too. Still, Belle managed to steer the students away from hostile groups and they avoided confrontation.

Until, about ten minutes later, they were rounding a corner.

Belle immediately halted the students, but she had already been spotted. In her haste to get the children out safely, she hadn't been as aware of her surroundings as she should have been.

It was a man, probably in his sixties, and a woman—obviously a mutant with blue skin.

And that's when she remembered being told about Magneto and his minion, Mystique. They weren't just pro-mutant, but also anti-human.

 _Fucking fantastic._

Belle immediately put up her hands, showing she meant no harm. Magneto was a man who believed humans inferior, though, and he'd surely never assume she was a threat in the first place.

In his mind, Belle was the ant and he was the boot.

If it came to that, Belle would try her best to be a really fucking annoying fire ant, at the very least.

"Magneto, is it?"

His head cocked to the side, as if he wasn't expecting her to know him, or maybe he wasn't expecting her to have the balls to say something to him without any trepidation in her tone.

"Yes, it is." His blue friend was looking rather wary. Magneto looked her over with more scrutiny. "You're not one of Stryker's, are you?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm one of Xavier's."

"A mutant, then?" Mystique spoke up.

"No," Belle answered, "but an ally."

The corners of Magneto's mouth turned downwards, a deep frown lining his lips. "A human." He said it with so much disdain, one would assume Belle had just gone and shit on his boots. "How pitiful."

Belle matched his frown. _Dick._ "Well, let me just remove my pitiful existence from your presence, your majesty."

He didn't appreciate her sarcasm. Well, damn. She thought it was one of her best qualities, too.

One of her throwing knives dislodged itself from her belt, flying over to Magneto's hand.

"Oh, this is getting kinky." She kind of couldn't help herself.

The knife flew back at her, aimed at her throat. She shifted her weight, though, and the knife sailed by her head and embedded itself in the wall behind her.

One of the kids screamed. The youngest rushed out and wrapped her little arms around Belle's knees.

Magneto's frown deepened.

"You got the children," Mystique stated the obvious.

Belle didn't dignify that with a response.

There was a loaded pause, as Mystique glanced from Belle to the child hugging her legs, unsure of how to handle the situation. Magneto, on the other hand, stared her in the eyes, seemingly searching her soul.

She didn't flinch, staring right back. No matter what he thought, she was not some goddamn _pitiful_ human he could push around. She wouldn't back down.

Some begrudging, not respect, but acceptance (not of her, but of her help) seemed to pass from him, and he stepped out of the way. Belle considered the man for a moment, before deciding that he was serious, and called the rest of the children out of hiding. They moved on without being stopped again, before eventually running into Ororo and a blue-skinned mutant, codenamed Nightcrawler, who apparently could teleport and had tried to kill the president, but was now on their side. Belle passed on the kids to the pair, asking to be briefed on the situation, before rushing out to find Logan—who apparently had gone on alone, like a complete and utter dumbass.

. . .

 _There was someone else like him._ She had nails that extended into long claws, her entire skeleton was made of adamantium, and she possessed a healing factor. She was just like Logan.

Except she was batting for the other team and trying to kill him, which was a slight inconvenience.

Logan felt regretful he had to kill her. He felt damn remorseful. But, ultimately, it was her life or his.

He was leaving the room with all the instruments that were so familiar to his dreams when he spotted Belle. She was surrounded by a ring of soldiers, now dead at her feet, and was just taking out the last one as he entered the corridor.

She turned to him, having heard his footsteps approaching. "Hi," she said with a large smile that made his stomach tighten, although he would never admit that to anyone.

"Hey-" and then all he felt was an immense pain pounding against his skull, and his knees buckled.

Belle, having noticed the moment it happened, rushed over to him. He grasped at his head and could only vaguely, in the background, hear Belle asking _What's the matter? Logan, what's happening?_

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

Logan paused before standing up, and then pulled Belle to her feet, too. When she asked again what happened, he could answer, but didn't _have_ an answer. "I don't know."

But they didn't have time to ponder the situation, so they moved on. Logan led the way, racing out, where he found Stryker going to leave in a helicopter. He charged the man, disabling his gun hand, when an explosion sounded. Logan hesitated, and Belle placed the palm of her hand on his bicep.

"Logan…we have more important things to deal with."

That's right. The other X-Men and the students were still inside the dam, which would very soon be flooded.

Logan chained Stryker to the helicopter wheels so that he could not leave. They had unfinished business. Then, the pair rushed back into the building, searching for the other mutants. They rounded a corner, spotting the group.

"We have to get out of here. Now!" Logan shouted.

Nobody moved forward, though. Jean was concentrating on God knows what, and Ororo was staring at Belle with increasing concern. Logan followed her line of sight and noticed that Belle's nose was bleeding. Her expression was blank, but Logan knew her well enough to know that was a bad sign—Belle's facial expression was only so carefully blank when she was trying to hide something.

The slow trickle of blood from her nostrils was a definitive tell that something was _very_ wrong.

"No," Jean finally looked up. "Magneto's reversed Cerebro. It's not targeting mutants anymore."

As if on cue, Belle grunted and staggered. Logan was by her side in a moment, wrapping an arm around her waist to help hold her up. "Shit."

Storm told them to run. She and this Nightcrawler guy would get the professor, but they needed to get the children out. He wanted to argue, but Logan knew that they _did_ need to get the children out. And he needed to get Belle out, too. She was looking worse for wear.

Belle, of course, wouldn't let him carry her, though. She shrugged him off and walked on her own. Her gait was unsteady, but whereas most people would—and probably were—screaming on the ground, Belle was on her feet.

 _He_ had fallen to the ground when Cerebro attacked him. Logan sometimes had to remind himself of how tough Belle really was and, even then, she kept surprising him.

They made it out, Belle remaining on her feet the entire time only be sheer strength of will. Belle was back to normal, though, soon after and telling them that Storm and Nightcrawler had been successful. The two mutants weren't far behind, after that.

Stryker was no longer where Logan had left him, but rather attached to the dam with a chain wrapped around him—and his throat. Magneto's doing, surely. Logan hesitated only a moment before walking over towards the man, carrying one of the students with him.

The man who knew him so well, but he didn't know at all, told him that he'd never fit in. He'd never be like the others. He begged for Logan to let him go.

Logan wanted to say _fuck off_ to the guy, but settled with saying he'd take his chances with the kid.

It was icing on the cake when the kid stuck out his reptile-like tongue at Stryker.

Then, shit hit the fan. The dam broke. The jet wouldn't start.

And Belle was running towards the jet, grabbing a tool box which was held out by the Professor, and shoving kids out of the way. Logan followed her in just in time to see her literally skid under the console like some goddamn baseball star going for a homerun.

"The hell are you doing?" Logan asked.

"Fixing the jet."

"You some engineer now?"

"No, but I _am_ some genius."

And there went Jean, going to make the sacrifice play. These women were fucking nuts.

Belle was screaming, telling Jean to _get her ass back on the fucking jet_ and making threats. Scott looked like he was about to cry, Ororo was horrified, the kids were terrified, and the Professor just looked zoned out.

Jean's voice came from the Professor, then, like some goddamn horror movie shit. She was saying her final goodbye. Holy shit, she was actually going to do it.

And then, _holy shit_ , the jet started and Belle was in Jean's (the Professor's) face, screaming that the jet was fixed and _get the fuck on the jet, now!_

Jean got on.

They just missed the fucking tsunami.

What a fucking day.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Holy shit._ Over 100 followers. Thank you so much guys! I honestly wasn't expecting this story to be such a success. I had envisioned nobody liking it and me crying in a corner (not really crying, but, you know). Also, thank you to all my new favorites and follows, and a special thanks to those who took the time to review!

Also, I apologize that this took so goddamn long. I was all like _Oh, I'll update within a week after my intersession course_. And, now, here we are, about two and a half weeks after my intersession ended. I suck. Hopefully the extra length makes up a tidbit for my suckiness.

I'm going to try to dedicate at least one day a week to writing, from now on, so the next chapter should be up sooner!

As everyone can tell, I have changed the ending to X2. My reason being that Days of Future Past (SPOILER) resets everything and, since I am not about that, I wanted to avoid the need for a reset. (END SPOILER) Also, I just really like Xavier. So, tahdah, Jean's not dead. Phoenix is staying the fuck in her cage. Scott and Xavier won't die. (At least, not in the way they died in the film. Character deaths in this story are possible.) I honestly didn't want to make this a sappy _everyone lives_ ending, but Jean needs to not fucking kill Xavier like a goddamn asshole. I promise, I'll make up for it somehow with angsty shit somewhere. I may follow some plotlines from the other films, but I'm not sure. We shall see.

Thanks for reading and supporting my story!


	9. Chapter 9

The children who had been captured were shaken up, but physically alright. They would likely have nightmares and other psychological side effects, but, overall, they would be okay.

Rogue and Bobby were mourning the loss of their friend, John—also known as _Pyro_ —, who had gone off to join Magneto's posse, and questioning where it had gone wrong.

Scott Summers was feeling the after effects of the mind controlling serum, which mostly consisted of a self-imposed sense of guilt for actions he wasn't conscience of and had no power to stop.

The mansion had the feelings of a warzone—debris, dried blood, dead bodies. They would need to renovate, but only after clearing the corpses.

Jean insisted on checking each of those present for the invasion and/or Alkali Lake for injuries. Most of the students, thanks to their own quick actions and the help of others, were uninjured. Most had gotten to the tunnels before the soldiers had even entered the mansion.

Others were minutely injured. There were a few concussions, a couple sprains, and many bruises and scrapes. The soldiers' mission had been to detain the mutant children, after all, not to wound or kill. Logan and Belle, over all, had been the only ones to sustain prolonged combat. The Wolverine's healing factor allowed him to heal within moments from even the most severe of injuries, meaning he was perfectly fine.

Belle's only outward sign of injury was the slash across her cheek. Because of his enhanced sense of smell, though, Logan could smell the large amounts of blood on Belle that weren't visible, but either hidden under her clothing or the result of blood splatter from foes. Most of it wasn't hers. Some of it was.

He, after the last student left Jean's medical lab, grabbed Belle by the hand and led her into the infirmary. She didn't put up a fight or try to remove his hand, but Logan thought that may have been for the sole reason of not causing a scene. Although, she did give him quite the dirty look.

Jean didn't say a word to him, just giving an understanding nod, before setting right to work on Belle. She used butterfly bandages to pull the skin together on Belle's cheek—the wound wasn't deep enough to warrant stitches—and asked if there were any other injuries. When Belle said she was _fine,_ Logan gave her a harsh look.

He turned back to Jean. "No. There's more."

And there was. Four bullet wounds—three grazes and one through the meat of her thigh. Two other blade wounds, one following the curve of her spine and running up her back in a shallow cut, and the other a slightly deeper slash to her right arm. The first didn't necessitate stitches, the former did. Belle had lost minimal blood, having bandaged the wounds with her limited supplies after the military invasion of Xavier's school. None of her wounds were bad, and likely only the through-and-through and the slash to her arm would leave scars.

When Jean, after Logan's contradiction to Belle's _I'm fine_ , asked if Belle had anymore injuries, the blonde had wordlessly pulled her shirt off, revealing most of her injuries. Logan had tensed in response, caught off guard, and Jean had shot him a cautious gaze. Belle sat on the examination table, though, seemingly unstirred.

Logan's eyes roved over the newly exposed skin. His grip on the table tightened when he noticed the scars that littered her torso. He knew Belle noticed; she noticed everything. But she had no reaction to him.

When Jean was done and, after another hard stare from Logan, Belle hopped to her feet and undid her pants, pulling them off and revealing the worst of the gunshot wounds. Belle hopped back up on the table casually (how she felt so relaxed in the tense situation, with hardly any clothes on and injured and after everything that had happened, was beyond him). Logan untucked his white tee shirt and pulled it over his head, passing it to Belle so that she could at the very least be somewhat covered, leaving himself in just his tank top. Belle nodded her head in acknowledgment and thanks before pulling it on.

Jean carefully stitched up Belle's thigh wound, it taking more time than the rest of her injuries given that it required a more complicated fix. When she was all done, Belle pulled her pants back on and did them up. She retrieved her shirt, inspected it, and ultimately deciding the garment was too damaged to salvage and tossing it in the trash.

She looked over at him. "You're not getting this back," indicating to his tee shirt.

Logan shrugged his shoulders. He didn't really care. It was just a plain white tee shirt, and he had many others. Plus, "It looks better on you anyways."

Belle harrumphed and, as per usual, side-stepped the compliment. "Doubt it. Thing nearly swallows me whole."

A smirk lined his lips, and he didn't think before grabbing Belle's hand again. Logan tugged her upstairs, towards his room. She didn't say anything, wordlessly following behind him.

Belle had been helping with the students, helping with clearing the lifeless bodies, helping with everything and not taking a moment to care for herself. Logan passed her a bath towel and a clean navy blue tee shirt from his nightstand drawer and motioned to the bathroom attached to his room.

She smiled playfully. "Are you trying to tell me that I smell?"

Logan's lips twitched in response. "Well, you definitely don't smell like fuckin' daisies."

She smelled like blood and death.

Belle snorted and walked into the bathroom, taking the offered items on her way.

Logan tried not to dwell on the fact that the woman of his dreams was less than twenty feet away, naked and standing beneath a stream of water.

She surfaced not long after, her usual scent being replaced by that of his body wash and his shirt. Her blonde hair was dripping wet, dampening the too-big shirt at her shoulders and down her back, and her legs were bare.

His breathing faltered and, from the raising of Belle's eyebrows, she had noticed. Logan motioned for her to come closer and she did, sitting on his bed beside him. He grabbed the medical supplies he had gathered while she was showering, which consisted of gauze and medical tape, and motioned for Belle's leg. She slung it across his lap and Logan went to work wrapping it in the gauze, trying not to let his hands linger and his thoughts wonder even though she was sitting on his bed almost naked and he could see her black underwear peeking out from beneath his too-large-for-her shirt and she was soaking wet and engulfed in his scent and _so damn close_. This was not the time.

Logan forced his mind away from those thoughts. He sighed heavily, applying tape to hold the gauze in place before gently patting her thigh, away from her injury, signaling that he was finished. Belle promptly removed her leg from his lap.

"Belle, I—" Belle frowned in response and Logan continued. "I could smell the blood on you. A lot of it wasn't yours."

"Yes."

"Dozens. It was dozens of people's blood I could smell on you."

Her gaze cut to him, the usual mischievous twinkle in her dark blue eyes replaced by the cold that only seemed to enter her stare when interactions ventured to a place she did not want to go. "Your point?"

 _You killed a lot of people. For self-defense and defense of the children, but, still, it sucks. A lot. I know. It eats at you, and I want you to know that you can talk to me 'bout it, if you want. I'll listen. I just want you to be okay._ He didn't say any of that, though. Instead, he just asked, "You alright?"

Belle nodded curtly. Logan tried not to appear disappointed that she hadn't opened up to him. "Are…you?" Her question was hesitant, as if she didn't really want to ask. And, Logan thought, maybe she didn't. Belle was even worse with talking about feelings than he was. She likely felt as if she had to return the question, though.

Set an example, he decided. Not through hypocritical words ("You're so closed off. Why won't you let yourself feel, with anyone?"), but with actual action. So, uncharacteristically, Logan opened himself up to Belle.

"I…will be," Logan finally answered after a long pause. When he glanced over at Belle, he noticed that she was staring intently. He looked back forward, avoiding eye contact. "But, right now? Kinda hard to be alright." No answer, so he went on. "I killed a lot of people today. Assholes with guns who were trying to take us. But, also, another mutant. She was under Stryker's mind control and trying to kill me. But, she was like me—a mutant and she was a feral and had adamantium claws." His jaw tightened; his fists clenched. Unexpectedly, Logan felt Belle reach for him. She laid her hand on top of his, smoothing out his fist and then taking hold of his hand in her grasp. She squeezed his hand once, for comfort, and Logan returned the gesture. "She was like me. She didn't know what she was doing. And I killed her. An innocent woman."

His voice was raw and his jaw clenching. Logan was pissed.

He was also upset and confused, but that would take a lot more for him to admit out loud or even to himself.

"It's never easy," Logan's eyes cut back to Belle, "taking a life. But it was necessary, and you can't beat yourself up over it. It was you or her."

"Don't make it right."

She smiled at him. And it was a smile full of so much regret and self-loathing, rare unhindered emotion flickering behind Belle's eyes. "No. It doesn't."

And then the emotion was gone from her expression and she looked over at the clock, noting the time. "It's getting late." She moved to get up, but Logan's grip unthinkingly tightened on her hand. She glanced back at him, her eyebrows cocked in silent question. Logan drew in a deep breath, gathering his courage, before spitting out one word.

"Stay?"

Belle's teeth clenched. Her eyes averted to the door, before returning to his, seemingly contemplative. She stared into his eyes for a loaded moment, searching for something, of what he didn't know. Then, exhaling slowly from her nose, she nodded her acquiesce.

Logan got beneath the covers, scooting over to make room for Belle. She hesitated only a moment before lifting the corner of the sheet and lying down beside him. After a moment, her gaze fell on him.

"You don't sleep in your jeans," she simply stated.

Logan rose an eyebrow in response, his lips quirking and a playful note entering his tone. "And how would you know that?"

She snorted in response. " _Nobody_ wears jeans to bed. That's just fuckin' weird."

He chuckled shortly in response, but took her comment for what it was; her hinting that he should get comfortable and she wouldn't take offense to it. So Logan removed his pants, tossing them to the floor. He took off his tank, too, since he didn't usually sleep with one normally on and why the hell not, he was already in his boxers and Belle in just his tee shirt.

Logan fought the urge to wrap his arms around Belle's form, pulling her into his embrace, her back to his chest, and leaning his head into the crook of her neck and surrounding himself with _her._ He was afraid that, like a deer, any sudden movements would scare Belle and send her into a flurry of motion out his door.

So, Logan fell asleep stiffly, his hands to himself and sleeping on the other side of the bed from Belle.

. . .

She awoke the next morning at the crack of dawn, in a room that was not hers and with someone else's smell surrounding her.

Belle looked over to Logan. He was dead asleep, his exhalation coming out in a quiet snore. He was lying on his stomach, his body entirely on the other side of the bed except for one haphazard arm which was tossed across her hip.

She watched him, for a moment. His expression was devoid of stress, peaceful in slumber. His back rose slightly with his breathing, and his hand twitched on her hip when she shifted slightly.

And it was too much for Belle, watching him lie there, knowing that whatever this was between them had to come to an abrupt halt, before she got too deep.

Carefully extracting herself from him, Belle pulled on her pants and shoes. She navigated the halls, which were empty at such an early hour, with a practiced silence. Belle knew, though, that if she were to be stopped by someone, it would not be by a sentient body.

She was right.

 _Belle, I would like to speak with you, please._

Hoping he was listening, Belle growled in annoyance. Still, she altered her course for Xavier's office.

For whatever reason, the telepath had been awake for a while. It was obvious by his typically composed self—suit and tie, fully groomed (not that he had much hair to groom or anything, but he had obviously washed himself up), and an alertness that spoke of wakefulness.

Xavier's gaze meaningfully met hers when she stepped into the office. Belle didn't offer a greeting or smile. She knew what this was about. She didn't want to have this discussion. She didn't _need_ to have this discussion.

"You may sit, if you would like."

She would not like. She remained on her feet.

The Professor sighed, this long-suffering sigh that one would hear from a parent dealing with a particularly frustrating child. It was a misplaced sound, Belle thought, for this situation. She wasn't the one being frustrating.

"How are you doing, after the events of the previous days?"

"Fine."

Xavier cut her a hard look. "I don't believe that to be true. Was that the first time you had killed since…?"

He didn't know how to ask. Not without saying something that would overtly acknowledge her past, something the older man obviously wasn't comfortable with.

"You know the answer to that question." And he did, Belle knew. He had picked her brain apart before asking her to teach at his school.

The telepath sighed again. "Sometimes, though, it is better to hear from the person. It is better for you to actually say it. Opening up to people could help you to heal."

 _Heal? I don't need to_ heal. _I just need to not have this fucking conversation._

"You do. You suffer every day because you have not accepted it, you have not healed from it. Your mind is in constant turmoil, filled with remorse and self-loathing."

"You read my mind?" Belle seethed. He hadn't looked inside her mind since the day they had met in her office. He usually didn't get inside her head, or anyone else's, for that matter. It was an invasion of privacy, a privacy that he usually respected. _Asshole._

He shot her a look that said _I heard that._ She didn't care. Asshole had went digging for intel through her lobes. Not cool.

Belle took a deep breath, and then shut everything down, a skill she had mastered with several years of practice. Her expression calmed, her mind emptied, and her posture relaxed.

"Thank you, Charles, for your concern," she stated in a perfectly polite, yet cold and detached voice, "but I am fine. And I will continue to be fine. But, right now, I'm going home. I have to be to work in just a couple of hours."

Xavier frowned at her, probably for several reasons. For being shut out of her mind, or at least to the best of her ability. For Belle's shutting down. For her admission that she would return to work that Monday, even after everything that had happened just the previous day.

She didn't stick around long enough for another lecture. Belle left, with several things going through her mind. One, she needed to focus on keeping her mind clear around Xavier. He knew a lot about her past, but she didn't want him poking around up there every time he fucking felt like it.

Two, she needed to put some distance between herself and Logan.

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 **A/N:** So, here it is guys! A little later than I would have liked, and also a little shorter than my most recent chapters, but this seemed like a good stopping point. (P.S. I almost just fell off my bed while trying to plug in my laptop. Fuck.) I'm thinkin' we're going to be delving more into the whole Logan-Belle relationship and airing out some dirty laundry (at least a little bit ) in the next few chapters. Finally, we'll be getting some answers about Belle's past, more than the very brief snippets I've written.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! The next chapter should be out sooner than this one. I'm not going to make any promises, though, because then I'll probably just have to apologize when this takes a week longer than I proclaimed.

Thank you so much to all of those who have added this story to their alerts and/or favorites, and to those extra dedicated readers who have taken the time to submit their feedback! I appreciate the support greatly.


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